







*S\ 





' A 6 ... V 










V » » • • • 



:%r : 



i? v/V 






O v fi o " • ♦ *0 






.♦> 



°o, 



V .0° 







■*.*!*> 



^> _CT - ° " • - 

^0* 

















V 






*v 




REV. THOMAS HOGE. 



Our Church and Our Village 



I. HISTORY OF THE CLAYSVILLE 

PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH 

II. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 

REV. THOMAS HOGE 

III. REMINISCENCES OF CLAYS- 
VILLE, PA. 



BY 

GEORGE W. F. BIRCH, D.D., LL.D. 



NEW YORK 

WARD & DRUMMOND 
1899 






Press of J. J. Little & Co. 
Astor Place, New York 



Uo tbe flDemors of 

THE PRESBYTERIAN PIONEERS OF THE 
SCOTCH-IRISH RACE 

OF 

WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 

AND THEIR DESCENDANTS 

THIS BOOK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

BY ITS AUTHOR. 




e/TW 

u 

y& call ^/fc 










I tecs??/ filJ%u> t& yj 'fjf jfrH** 




U^Cf-c 



ft.£, 



Introduction 



Introduction 

During the summer of 1895 the Presbyterian con- 
gregation of Claysville, Washington County, Pennsyl- 
vania, decided to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniver- 
sary of the organization of the church, which occurred 
on September 20, 1820. Accordingly the necessary 
arrangements were made for an appropriate observ- 
ance of the event on September 20, 1895. The fol- 
lowing description of the celebration is compiled from 
the Wheeling (W. Va.) Intelligencer, the Washington 
(Penn.) Democrat, and the Washington (Penn.) Obser- 
ver, under date of September 21, 1895. 

Friday was a memorable day in the history of the 
Claysville Presbyterian Church. The occasion was the 
celebration of the seventy-fifth, or diamond, anniver- 
sary of the organization of the church. An admirable 
programme had been prepared, and was carried out 
almost to the letter. Only two of the speakers sched- 
uled for addresses failed to put in an appearance. The 
leading idea of the celebration, as the invitations read, 
was to commemorate the organization of the church, 
revive old and pleasant memories and the early strug- 
gles of a church which has been so richly blessed of 
God. 

Seventy-five years, relatively speaking, does not 
seem a very broad span in the affairs of the world, 
but when measured in connection with events coinci- 



Introduction 

o'clock, and were opened by a voluntary by the choir. 
This was followed by the invocation by Rev. James 
I. Brownson, D.D., the oldest minister in the presby- 
tery. Rev. T. R. Alexander, of Washington, read 
the Scripture lesson, and Rev. T. W. Young, of Pros- 
perity, led the congregation in prayer. The following 
address of welcome was delivered by W. A. Irwin, of 
Claysville, a member of the church session: 

Mr. Chairman and Christian Friends: It is my 
pleasant duty, as the representative of the Presbyterian 
Church of Claysville, to extend to you to-day a warm 
and hearty welcome to our church on this our seventy- 
fifth or diamond anniversary — this church from which 
for many years, one by one, you or your parents have 
gone out to find new homes, form new relations, and, 
we hope, to bless and gladden the places and people 
among whom God in His providence has placed you, 
whether as the humble laborer, mechanic, merchant, 
farmer, professional man, or minister of the Gospel; 
and we welcome you here to-day back to the fountain- 
head of your spiritual life, where many of you have 
sat in the Sabbath-school and under the Gospel, and 
have here given yourselves up to Christ and His ser- 
vice. We hope you may to-day be able to again 
recount God's blessings, to renew old acquaintances 
and friendships, to gladly join with us in commemorat- 
ing the time when the altar of God was set up here, 
and where, thanks to " Him who doeth all things 
well," its fires are still brightly burning. 

While we are all proud of our church and its in- 
fluence for good, and the moulding of public sentiment 



Introduction 

in this place and community, yet it cannot be confined 
here, for how many that have gone out from this 
church who have been and are officers, teachers, 
workers in the C. E. or Y. M. C. A., or simply humble 
workers in many other churches where they are lend- 
ing their lives and energies for the extension of the 
Master's kingdom. While ten ministers are preach- 
ing the glorious Gospel of Christ to multitudes of 
people, nor is the spirit dying out, two have just 
graduated and three more are still in the Theological 
Seminary. But these things belong more properly 
to our honored historian. Nor must we forget to wel- 
come our sister churches, who have come up to re- 
joice with us to-day, because our interests are mutual 
and we are all laboring for the same blessed cause. 
So we welcome all to our meeting here to-day — sister 
churches, strangers, and children of the old church. 
So again, in behalf of this congregation, I extend to 
you a sincere, cordial, and hearty welcome. 

Rev. Francis M. Hall, of Conneautville, who was 
to have delivered the response, was not present. The 
chief speaker of the afternoon was the Rev. G. W. F. 
Birch, D.D., of New York, who read the history of 
the church. The chairman, in introducing Dr. Birch, 
said that he was the oldest minister of the sons of the 
church that had entered that profession. 

Dr. Birch was followed by the Rev. J. M. Mealy, 
D.D., of New Wilmington, a son of the church, who 
delivered an address on the " Pew of the Church." 
This was followed by addresses on reminiscences of 
pastors and presbytery. Rev. W. H. Lester, D.D., 



Introduction 

of West Alexander, spoke at length on the life of Dr. 
McCarrell; Rev. Wm. Speer, D.D., of Washington, on 
Rev. Mr. Hoge; Rev. Henry Woods, D.D., on remi- 
niscences of presbytery, and Dr. McCarrell and Rev. 
James I. Brownson, D.D., of Washington, on remi- 
niscences of pastors and presbytery. 

The evening session was not less interesting than 
the afternoon one, and was attended by fully as many 
people. After the opening and devotional exercises, 
the Rev. J. D. Moffat, D.D., President of Wash- 
ington and Jefferson College, spoke on " The Church 
and College." Since 1848, fifty-four persons from the 
Claysville Church have been graduated from the col- 
lege. Among them are Dr. George W. Miller, the 
first member to graduate; Hon. John H. Craig, Rev. 
G. W. F. Birch, D.D.; Francis A. Birch, deceased; 
Hon. John M. Birch, Rev. John M. Mealy, D.D.; Rev. 
W. A. McCarrell, Rev. J. J. McCarrell, Rev. T. C. 
McCarrell, Hon. S. J. M. McCarrell, John E. Craig, 
J. Addison Craig, William Craig, Sr. ; William Craig, 
Jr.; T. F. Birch, J. T. Noble, T. C. Noble, T. F. Irwin, 
Rev. E. O. Sawhill, Rev. Francis M. Hall, T. S. Ander- 
son, E. H. Graham, Robert S. Calder, Robert Inglis, 
Harry King, John Inglis, and many others. Rev. A. 
A. Mealy, a son of the church, who was to have de- 
livered an address on " The Boy at Church," was ab- 
sent. N He was followed by Rev. E. O. Sawhill, of Alle- 
gheny, a son of the Claysville congregation, who spoke 
on " The Social Church." The programme was con- 
cluded by voluntary remarks by members and visitors. 

One of the unique features of the celebration was 
the " Songs by Ye Old Folks." These were rendered 

5 



Introduction 

by a choir of aged people who in their earlier life had 
led the singing in the Claysville and other churches of 
that region. This ohoir was led by the venerable 
Robert Sutherland, who is upwards of eighty years old. 
The other members of the ohoir were Mrs. J. C. Mc- 
Conaughey, Mrs. Sarah F. Craig, Mrs. Jane Giles, 
Mrs. Wm. Stewart, Mrs. John A. Dickey, Mrs. Mari- 
etta Miller, Mrs. M. P. Fish, Mrs. Thos. McKee, 
Mrs. Lewis Cooper, Mr. H. C. Noble, Mr. John S. 
Miller, Mr. John A. Dickey, Mr. Albert Sprowls, Mr. 
Geo. Y. Holmes, Sr., and Mr. Thomas Steele. Prof. 
Robert Calder presided at the organ during the ren- 
dition of these old tunes. In response to a request, 
Mr. Sutherland rendered the solo, " David's Lamen- 
tation." In his day Mr. Sutherland was a famous 
singer in the West Alexander region. 

The oldest member of the church at the present time 
is the Hon. John Birch, father of the Rev. Dr. G. W. 
F. Birch, of New York. He settled in this vicinity in 
1830, and is now eighty-five years of age. Mr. A. A. 
Mealy, father of the Rev. Dr. John M. Mealy and Rev 
A. A. Mealy, came here in 1829, and is the oldest citi- 
zen of the town. Another old member of the church 
is Miss Mary McLain. Another aged member is Mr. 
John Finley, now eighty-five years of age. Mrs. John 
Sawhill, mother of Rev. E. O. Sawhill, is well advanced 
in years in membership. Mrs. Mary J. Irwin has be- 
longed to the church forty-four years, and was present 
at the installation of Dr. McCarrell, which event she 
vividly remembers. 

The church has raised up and sent out sixteen min- 
isters of the Gospel, including such men as Rev. Dr. 

6 



f 



#r- 




HON*. JOHN 15IRCH 

Born, August 5, iSio. Settled in Claysville, 1S32. Justice of the 
Peace, 1845-50, 1S66-74. County Commissioner, 1848-51. Member 
of the Pennsylvania Legislature, 1S75-76. 

With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation. 

— Psalm xci : 16. 



Introduction 

Birch, of New York; Rev. Dr. Mealy, of New Wil- 
mington;* Rev. Dr. J. J. McCarrell, of McKeesport; 
Rev. Wm. A. McCarrell, of Shippensburg; Rev. 
Thomas C. McCarrell, of Waynesboro; Rev. A. A. 
Mealy, of Bridgeville; Rev. E. O. Sawhill, of Alle- 
gheny; Rev. F. M. Hall, of Conneautville, and Rev. 
R. S. Inglis, of Jackson, Mich. Four of the daughters 
of the Claysville Church married ministers. Miss 
Martha McLain, daughter of Elder Wm. McLain, was 
wedded to Rev. Dr. Alexander McCarrell; Miss Eliza- 
beth Birch, daughter of Hon. John Birch, and sister 
of Rev. Dr. G. W. F. Birch, was married to Rev. Dr. 
J. J. McCarrell; Miss Ella V. King, daughter of W. C. 
King, banker, was married to Rev. O. T. Langfitt, and 
Miss Sarah M. Anderson, daughter of W. C. Ander- 
son, Esq., to Rev. William H. Lester, now a missionary 
to Chili, South America, f Another daughter of the 
Claysville Church, Miss Kate G. Patterson, went out 
in 1889 as a teacher among the Indians. Claysville 
Church has been served by several especially dis- 
tinguished elders. One of the best known in recent 
years was Alexander K. Craig, recently deceased, who 
was an elder for more than thirty-three years, superin- 
tendent of the Sabbath-school for fifteen years, and 
leader of the church choir for forty years. % His father, 
before him, was a distinguished elder of the same 
church, and also very prominent in the service of the 
State in several important offices. 

* Now of Waynesburgh, Penn. 

f Mr. Lester is now a pastor at Greeneville, Tenn. 

% At the time of his death, July 29, 1892, he was a mem- 
ber of the Fifty-second Congress, from the Twenty-fourth 
District of Pennsylvania. 

7 



Historical Address 



Historical Address 

DELIVERED BY GEORGE W. J . BIRCH, D.D., LL.D., 
01 BETHANY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEW ¥X)RK 
CITY, AT THE CELEBRATION < >)■ THE SEVE 
FIFTH ANNIVERSARY 01 THE CLAYSVILLE PRES- 
J:7'J BRIAN ( HURCH 

The Claysville Presbyterian Church is the vital 
factor of historic Claysville. If the National Pike was 
the occasion of the of Claysville, I feel that 

this discourse would not commence aright if it were 
not to praise God that there were those among the first 
settlers of this village who were filled with the spirit 
I Ibah, Abraham, and David. Xoah took the first 
Btep in humanity's fresh start as the lord of creation 
when he came forth from the ark to build an altar unto 
the Lord. Wherever Abraham pitched his tent in 
Canaan, there he had an altar. The son of Jesse felt 
that Jerusalem, the city of David, would not be the city 
of God until the Ark of the Covenant was transferred 
from the house of Obed-Edom to the hill of Zion. 

So the little company which formed the nucleus of 
the Claysville Presbyterian Church was a Noachian 
band, as it felt that the town could not start right with- 
out a church; was an Abrahamic band, as it felt that a 
cluster of homes without a church was a contradiction; 



History of the 

was a Davidic band, as it felt that the social and politi- 
cal welfare of the community hinged upon the pres- 
ence of the Church of the Living God. 

Hence, when Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar, 
during the summer of 1820, invited the Rev. Thomas 
Hoge to preach the Gospel in the village of Claysville, 
they put themselves abreast of Noah, Abraham, and 
David, and inaugurated in this community that object 
lesson of the Sermon on the Mount which our Lord 
presented when He said, " Ye are the salt of the earth." 
" Ye are the light of the world." " A city that is set 
on a hill cannot be hid." If Claysville is better than it 
would otherwise have been; if it has been preserved 
from moral decay; if it has advanced in material pros- 
perity; if it has been a centre of religious instruction 
and secular knowledge; if from its homes there have 
gone forth the torch-bearers of the everlasting gospel; 
if it has been to fathers and mothers, sons and daugh- 
ters, friends and neighbors, this earth's revelation of 
that path of the just which is as the shining light that 
shineth more and more unto the perfect day, it has 
been just because the Claysville Presbyterian Church 
has been the salt of the earth and the light of the world. 
The God of Providence stamps the march of events 
during these seventy-five years of church life as salt 
which is pungent, as light which is lustrous, as a city 
set on a hill which is conspicuous. Therefore the 
Claysville Presbyterian Church is a factor of historic 
Claysville so vital that without it the history of this 
town and vicinity would be another story. 

If the foregoing line of thought presents a correct 
view of the relation of this church to the town, we can- 




REV. FRANCIS M. HALL 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

not be too familiar with its history, as it reveals what 
God has done through His confessors of Christ in this 
part of His heritage. So that the design of this his- 
torical address is to stir your minds by way of remem- 
brance, by recalling the generations who have made 
the past of this church " a book to be read, a figure to 
be looked at, a caution from which to learn wisdom." 
Indeed, the historical philosophy of which such an 
address is the exhibition has been set forth by both the 
great Edmund Burke and the versatile Lord Macau- 
lay. Says Burke, " People will not look forward to 
posterity, who never look backward to their ancestors." 
Says Macaulay, " A people who takes no pride in the 
noble achievements of remote ancestors will never 
achieve anything worthy to be remembered by remote 
descendants." 

The Scripture warrant for the history which is the 
subject of interest on the present occasion, is the fact 
that the historic books of the Bible give tone to the 
whole of the Sacred Record. The very name (Deu- 
teronomy) of the fifth book of the Pentateuch shows 
that nearly the whole of it is a historical address to the 
persons (along with their children) who had passed 
through the Red Sea and had heard the law from Sinai. 
It was from the platform of the history of their 
fathers that the venerated Joshua poured into the ears 
of his N countrymen his thrilling appeal, " Choose you 
this day whom ye will serve." The magnanimous 
Samuel lays down his authority by the delivery of a his- 
torical address. The poet-prophet opens the historical 
epic of the Seventy-eighth Psalm with a declaration of 
its reason why. 

13 



History of the 

u Give ear, O my people, to my law : incline your ears to 
the words of my mouth. 

" I will open my mouth in a parable : I will utter dark say- 
ings of old : 

" Which we have heard and known, and our fathers have 
told us. 

"We will not hide them from their children, shewing to the 
generation to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength,' 
and his wonderful works that he hath done. 

"For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a 
law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they 
should make them known to their children : 

"That the generation to come might know them, even the 
children which should be born ; who should arise and declare 
them to their children : 

"That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the 
works of God, but keep his commandments." * 

The history of their nation constitutes the thread 
with which the prophets weave their predictions and 
their precepts. Isaiah appeals to the seekers of the 
Lord to look unto the rock whence they are hewn, and 
to the hole of the pit whence they are digged, by look- 
ing unto Abraham, their father. (Isaiah li. 1-2.) He 
canonizes and confirms the ancient books as he sounds 
the battle-cry: 

"Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; 
awake, as in the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art 
thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon ? Art 
thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great 
deep ; that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the 
ransomed to pass over ? " f 

* Psalm lxxviii. 1-7. 
f Isaiah li. 9-10. 

14 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

A " Thus saith the Lord " prefaces Jeremiah's coun- 
sel, " Stand ye in the ways and see and ask for the old 
paths, where is the good way and walk therein, and ye 
shall find rest for your souls." (Jeremiah vi. 16.) 
Our Lord confounded the Jews with the challenge, 
" Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have 
eternal life: and they are they which testify of me." 
(John v. 39.) That speech which gave the martyr 
Stephen the face of an angel is a master specimen 
of historical philosophy. Guthrie calls the eleventh 
chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews " a grand tableau 
in which the several heroes of faith stand forth and act 
in as lifelike forms as ever appeared in historical 
picture or sculptured frieze." 

Thus this historical address is an attempt to enforce 
a truth which the Bible emphasizes, and which I apply 
to the sleeping generations of this church by the use of 
the observation that, " When a man of God dies, it by 
no means follows that his work dies. There is nothing 
more for him to do in the line of his earthly work, but 
there may be a great deal more for others to do in the 
line of his earthly teachings. Whatever of God's truth 
a man of God declares during his lifetime, is just as 
truly God's truth after the death of that man of God as 
before. It is, indeed, just as important that we should 
do the things which the Lord commanded through 
MoseS ' to a thousand generations,' as it was that the 
soldiers of Joshua should do them in their day. And a 
large part of our present duty is simply in the doing 
what the Lord commanded to our fathers. There are 
new messages of God to us, beyond all that our fathers 
knew of; but we shall be worth little in the heeding of 

15 



History of the 

God's new messages to us if we fail of being true to 
God's teachings to our fathers." * 

This day, seventy-five years ago, September 20, 
1820, gave birth to the event known as the organiza- 
tion of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. At the 
time it took its place in the world's history that 
epoch of the history of our National Union known as 
the era of good feeling was running its course under 
the direction of James Monroe, the fifth President 
of the United States. The First Gentleman of Europe, 
George the Fourth, sat upon the throne of England. 
The great Napoleon was languishing in St. Helena. 
The British nation was aflame with the trial of 
Queen Caroline. The present Queen Victoria was the 
babe, little more than a year old, who was known as 
the heir apparent of the British throne. The literary 
world was guessing at the author of Waverley as the 
home circles of the day turned the fresh pages of the 
" Bride of Lammermoor " and " Ivanhoe." As to 
poetry, the mention of Scott's " Lay of the Last Min- 
strel," of Byron's " Childe Harold," of Keat's " Endy- 
mion " ; as to biography, the mention of Boswell's 
" Johnson " ; as to criticism, the mention of Francis 
Jeffrey; as to theology, the mention of Thomas Chal- 
mers, will suffice to show that literature, seventy-five 
years ago, spread a rich feast before our fathers and 
mothers. In connection with the institution of the Na- 
tional Road, it is interesting to know that Macadam's 
theory of road-making had been published only the 
year before. Thomas Patterson represented this dis- 

* H. Clay Trumbull : Sunday School Times, August 24, 
1895. 

16 




REV. ELDON O. SAWHILL 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

trict in the National House of Representatives. Isaac 
Weaver was State senator, and Joseph Lawrence, 
Thomas McCall, Dickerson Roberts, and John Reed 
were members of the General Assembly of the Com- 
monwealth of Pennsylvania. The Claysville of 1820 
was composed of men who still linger in the memory 
of the present generation, and are called up as I speak 
of George Wilson, whose business energy and public 
spirit were a large factor in the growth and prosperity 
of this portion of Washington County; as I mention 
Alexander Chapman, who appeared to me as a child 
the model of preciseness; as I recall Joseph Bryant, 
then the first blacksmith of the village, but afterward 
the man of leisure who, while respected by our fathers, 
was the terror of every frolicsome boy; as I can see this 
very moment that family physician in general, Dr. 
James Kerr, whirling his cane and fighting the tobacco 
tempter through the incessant mastication of a pine 
splinter; as I recollect James Noble, cabinet-maker 
and undertaker, who, for the period of fifty-four years, 
was known as the funeral conductor of this commu- 
nity; as I read over the names which appear in 
the list of subscribers to a fund for the establishment 
of a school and the erection of a schoolhouse. In the 
light of the succeeding years the Claysville citizenship 
of 1820 rilled their limited stage of action with the 
spirit "of those who, two hundred years before, made 
Plymouth Rock the germ of the free men, the free 
speech, and the free soil of this American Republic. 
But the setting of our picture would not be complete 
without a glance at the men who constituted the Pres- 
bytery of Washington when it organized the Claysville 

17 



History of the 

Presbyterian Church. John Chrysostom, " the man 
of the golden mouth," of the ancient church, was link- 
ing himself with Western Pennsylvania Christianity in 
the silver-tongued Marques, of Cross Creek. Paul's 
workman " that needeth not to be ashamed " was 
showing himself in George M. Scott, of Mill Creek, the 
grandfather of Mrs. Benjamin Harrison, who, as a 
President's wife, dignified her station as the first 
lady of the land. Scotland, in the person of Thomas 
Chalmers, on account of a little book on " Faith," had 
raised to the rank of a master in theology, both in 
thought and expression, John Anderson, of Upper 
Buffalo. When succeeding generations cease to reap 
the fruits of the wonderful, the genuine revivals which 
cradled Western Pennsylvania Presbyterianism, then 
the recording angel will strike from Church History 
the name of that flaming evangelist, Elisha Macurdy,of 
Cross Roads and Three Springs. The first and only 
time that I saw Joseph Stevenson, of West Alexander, 
was at the turning point of my history which made me 
a college graduate. I remember distinctly the vener- 
able man who responded when Dr. Scott, the president 
of Washington College, announced that Father Stev- 
enson, of Bellefontaine, Ohio, would lead in prayer. 
Indeed this church was, in a measure, a colony from 
the flock of Father Stevenson, who, being dead, yet 
speaketh in this part of the Lord's heritage. Cephas 
Dodd, the good physician who made everybody think 
of the Great Physician, was doing his faithful work at 
Lower Ten Mile. As a little boy, I -have heard my 
elders speak of the grand, great sermons of Andrew 
Wylie. No name appears more frequently on the rolls 

18 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

of the early General Assemblies. What he did for 
Washington College may be estimated from the re- 
mark of Dr. Robert Baird, " It cannot be questioned 
that he was one of the best educated men in the part 
of the country in which ne lived." James Hervey was 
feeding and leading the flock of God at the Forks 
of Wheeling, and fixing that which he maintained 
through life, viz. : the theological balance of the Pres- 
bytery. Thomas Hoge, at Buffalo, was supplement- 
ing his work at Claysville. Jacob Cozad had just 
been installed pastor of the church at Lower Buffalo. 
Now let us call the roll of the pioneers of Claysville 
Presbyterianism; let us make mention of these spirit- 
ual argonauts; let us note the actors of an event which, 
alone of all events in the birth of the village, will sur- 
vive this wreck of matter and crush of worlds. Fond 
recollections in more than one instance will bring the 
dead to life as I repeat the first names on the roll of the 
membership of this church. The original fifteen are 
as follows: Barnet Bonar and his wife, Jane Bonar, 
Joseph Henderson and his wife, Mary Henderson, 
from the church of Three Ridges, now West Alexan- 
der; Widow McGuffin, from the church of Upper 
Buffalo; Thomas Stewart and his wife, Mary Stewart, 
from the Associate Church of South Buffalo (Rev. 
David French, pastor); also Catharine Gemmill and 
Martha Morrow; Martha Gamble, from the Associate 
Reformed Church (Rev. Mr. Kerr, pastor); Margaret 
Miller, from the church of Miller's Run; Andrew Bell 
and his wife, Mary Ann Bell, from the church of which 
Rev. Thomas L. Birch was pastor; Samuel Gilmore 
and his wife, Anne Gilmore, from the Forks of Brandy- 

19 



History of the 

wine church of Chester County, Pennsylvania (Rev. 
Mr. Grier. pastor). 

The first persons admitted to the organized church 
were William McGuffin and his wife. Mary Jane Mc- 
Gurhn. by examination " as to their Christian experi- 
ence and doctrinal knowledge," and Nancy Hutchin- 
son by " certificate " from the Forks of Wheeling 
Church. Mrs. Hutchinson was the mother of Mrs. 
George Milligan. of Claysville.* This roll suggests a 
long story, at which I can only glance. No man could 
live long in this region and not hear of Barnet Bonar. 
I have a distinct recollection of stories of an accurate 
marksmanship which made the squirrels he aimed at 
say, like David Crockett's coon, which were repre- 
sented as answering the aim of David's ritie with the 
word. " You need not shoot. Mr. Crockett; I will come 
down." During the decade from 1S40 to 1S50. the 
name of the deceased Squire Henderson was a house- 
hold word in this community. His wife lived long as 
Grannie Henderson to make us feel that God's bene- 
diction was upon us as our home circles gave her their 
hearty welcome. The sons and daughters of this noble 
couple are called to mind; and I think of kind-hearted 
Bill, the friend of all the children, and the voluntary 
nurse of every sick person he could find; of the manly 
Joe. of whose grave no man knoweth unto this day; the 
respected John, the sterling Thomas, the stirring Sam, 
the devoted Mary Jane, the beautiful Elizabeth, the 

* Two children of Simon Shur were the first infants to re- 
ceive the rite of baptism. Mr. John Laird, who received the 
same rite at the hands of the Rev. Mr. Hoge, was present 
during the delivery of the address. 

20 




.RAIG 



Claysvillc Presbyterian Church 

motherly Becky. I do not know that I ever saw 
Thomas Stewart, but I do know that all Claysville 
seemed to make a favorite of his son Jim. And I 
know also that the pastor who sent Mr. Stewart and 
his wife to the new church at Claysville was enshrined 
in every heart throughout this region as Davie French, 
without the least thought of disrespect. The name of 
Andrew Bell suggests his daughter, Margaret Karr 
Bell, who was the teacher of the little boys and girls of 
our time in Claysville, and who passed to her reward 
when she finished her great work as the Mrs. Presi- 
dent Miller, of Waynesburgh College. Mr. Bell and 
wife helped to organize the Cumberland Presbyterian 
Church in Washington, Penn.* He was also a work- 
man on the building erected by that organization. It 
is as it were but yesterday that I saw the William 
McGufrin, who, along with his wife, were the first con- 
verts in the Claysville Church, and I am once more on 
our front porch as I witness the long procession that 
followed his remains to the grave. 

As was the wont in Western Pennsylvania, the 
groves were God's first temples in this community. 
According to well-established tradition, the first re- 
ligious meetings in this section of the country were 

* The Thomas L. Birch who was pastor of the church from 
which Mr. Bell came to the new organization, has been the 
subject of considerable animadversion by those who have dealt 
with the matters in which Mr. Birch was a leading figure. I 
do not propose to criticise the unfavorable light in which the 
historians place Mr. Birch. However, I think it just to say 
that my personal relation to him has caused me to hear of 
documents which would seem to prove that there are two sides 
to that story. 



History of the 

held at the forks of the Burnsville and Haneytown 
roads, about two hundred yards southward from the 
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. A person still living 
recalls the incident of a communion service which he 
witnessed in that locality. This locality appeals to 
me as memory brings back the impression of my early 
childhood when I saw Cal King skating over the mill- 
pond near by. 

Afterward the place of assembly was changed to 
a sugar grove, just about the site of the present resi- 
dence of Mrs. Thaddeus C. Noble. It was not long, 
however, until the services were transferred to the field 
immediately in the rear of the present schoolhouse. In- 
deed, this schoolhouse stands on the ground occupied 
by the first house of worship, which consisted of a log 
schoolhouse already in existence and a frame building 
adjoined thereto. The construction was so arranged 
that by the removal of a partition the two buildings 
were connected when religious services were held. 
This building was removed to and is the main portion 
of a building which now stands on the lot of Mr. John 
Birch, and which has been a part of his tannery for 
some forty-five or fifty years. 

The sum of the recollections of persons still living 
seems to establish beyond doubt that this building 
served the purposes of religious worship until 1830. 
That year dates the erection of the present brick edi- 
fice. Mr. Hoge, the first pastor of the congregation, 
assumed the responsibility of one-third of its cost, 
which was $2,000. Mr. Josiah Truesdell (the father 
of Messrs. Joel Truesdell, of West Alexander, and 
Luther Truesdell (lately deceased), and Mrs. Thaddeus 



Claysrillc Presbyterian Church 

C. Noble, and the grandfather of Josiah Truesdell 
Noble, so well known through this whole region) had 
come to this country as a pioneer from Connecticut. 
He was evidently a man of affairs, and as a successful 
merchant and public-spirited citizen was in the front 
rank of the makers of Claysville. A stage-coach acci- 
dent brought his promising career to a sudden termi- 
nation. Air. Truesdell was so much the home talk of 
the families of the village during my childhood, that 
I have never forgotten the time that his widow brought 
the little china teapot into our house from which she 
gave her husband his last drink. Mr. Truesdell 
seemed to be the only person willing to undertake the 
work of building the new church. He most ardently 
seconded the efforts of Mr. Hoge to provide the con- 
gregation with a suitable house of worship, and threw 
the activity of his nature and the benefit of his experi- 
ence into the supervision of the work. William Knox, 
Simon Shur, and Andrew Bell were the carpenters. 
Thomas Gourley made the bricks. Mention has been 
made of Andrew Bell. Any picture of past Claysville 
would be incomplete without the limping, busy figure 
of Billy Knox. Simon Shur is no infrequent name in 
the records of early Claysville. And what Claysville 
boy from 1830 to i860 did not know the Gourleys? 
They kept the inhabitants of this country from for- 
getting the time when the hunter roamed through 
these woods. They evidently agreed with an enthu- 
siastic sportsman that " the modern foxhound is one 
of the most wonderful animals in creation." They 
would make the wild animal their prey and their pet. 
I am looking down from our porch now at Tom 

23 



History of the 

Gourley, Jr., as he passes by with thirteen hounds at 
his heels. And I confess that the impulse of that stir- 
ring life and the music of that hound-bay give me the 
old-time thrill to-day. 

This brick meeting-house is to-day the monument 
of the singular fidelity and transparent honesty of 
Josiah Truesdell, William Knox, Simon Shur, Andrew 
Bell, and Thomas Gourley, for after a lapse of sixty- 
five years the walls which they reared are in an almost 
perfect state of preservation. And as I think of Mr. 
Gourley as an old man building upon the founda- 
tion of the apostles and prophets by confession of 
Christ in this church, I realize that his departure 
into eternity was a transfer from the walls which he 
constructed so well below to that city whose founda- 
tions are what they are because its Builder and Maker 
is God. 

And ever since, the Presbyterian Meeting-House of 
Claysville has been the principal centre of interest in 
this community. It gave its name to everything con- 
nected with it. There were the meeting-house yard, 
the meeting-house lane, the meeting-house hill. That 
locust grove, through whose branches we looked at it 
from the village, inspired me with all the enthusiasm 
of a Shenstone. Those aisles showed on each Sabbath 
a procession the like of which I have never witnessed 
on the earth. Sculpture, both ancient and modern, has 
exhausted itself on the church pulpit, but to my eye the 
old Claysville pulpit, with its steps and its railing and 
Bible rest, covered with red damask, was a thing of real 
beauty. And as I looked at the old pews with their 
numbered doors, I felt that they were no common 

24 




CLAYSVILLE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

benches. I admit that the pews might have been 
more comfortable, but I ever have denounced the 
vandalism that removed that old pulpit by which our 
ancestors showed that they were by no means deficient 
in good taste. 

Somebody has written a poem entitled " The 
Meeting-House on the Hill." I wish I could find it, 
for its meeting-house filled my mind and heart with 
our " meeting-house on the hill." Why, dear friends, 
it is our Westminster Abbey, for, doubtless, you are 
now peopling it with your dear dead as the Lord's 
Day found the hearthstone circle in the family pew. 
And our heaven will link itself to the meeting-house 
on the hill as the way by which we reached God's 
temple on high. 

The fifty-first chapter of Jeremiah was spoken to the 
Jews when they were captives in Babylon. A long 
captivity was in prospect. Seventy years must roll 
away before God would fulfil His promise to His 
people. " I will turn away your captivity, and I will 
gather you from all the nations, and from all the 
places whither I have driven you, saith the Lord; and 
I will bring you again into the place whence I caused 
you to be carried away captive." " But," says one, 
" the land of their fathers must not be forgotten." The 
prophet, foretelling to the Jews their reverses, their 
defeat and conquest by the king of Babylon, and their 
long banishment from home, bids them, notwithstand- 
ing, " Remember the Lord afar off, and let Jerusalem 
come into your mind." 

This meeting-house on the hill is our Jerusalem. 
If I could gather together the men and women living 

3 25 



History of the 

on this earth whose birth, whose moral training, or 
whose conversion make this church God's Jerusalem 
unto them, I would speak to them what I say to you 
now. When business toils and cares so press with 
earthly solicitude that they narrow communion with 
God; when, in the multitude of our thoughts within us, 
we are so beset and burthened that we long for the old- 
time Sabbath morning when we clustered around our 
Sabbath-school teacher; when with father and mother, 
brother and sister, schoolmate and playmate, we felt 
that this old house was full of Sabbath fragrance; when 
the feverish pursuit of worldly good or the alluring 
entanglements of temptation so crowd out our religion 
as to make us indifferent to the moral and spiritual 
training which we have received through the instru- 
mentality of this church ; when the throes of cankering 
care and the darkness of sorrow, the stings of dis- 
appointment and the depths of despondency, may make 
us think that the God of the old church is not our 
friend; when we would fill the life that now is with 
more of the life which is to come — whatever your con- 
dition on the earth, wherever you live on the earth, 
let the meeting-house on the hill be in your mind. 



The Pastors 

The initial step in the organization of the Claysville 
Presbyterian Church was taken, as has been intimated, 
when Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar invited 
the Rev. Thomas Hoge to preach the Gospel in this 
village. This invitation was soon followed by the 

26 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

organization of this church, seventy-five years ago 
to-day. 

The Rev. Thomas Hoge was a native of Ireland, 
whose participation in the Irish Rebellion of 1798 
caused him to flee to the United States, where he be- 
came the founder of the branch of the family which 
bears the name. He landed in Philadelphia, and after 
a short sojourn in that city went to Carlisle, Penn. 
During the period which embraced his residence in the 
latter place and its neighborhood he married Miss 
Elizabeth City Holmes. During the interval between 
his arrival in Carlisle and his marriage, he conducted 
an academy in Northumberland, Penn. Afterward 
we find him at Greensburgh, Penn. From Greens- 
burgh he removed to Washington, Penn. 

The Presbytery of Ohio received Mr. Hoge as a 
licentiate from the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland, on 
April 17, 1816, and ordained him to the ministry as an 
evangelist on January 21, 18 17. 

As a member of the Presbytery of Ohio Mr. Hoge 
acted as Stated Supply of the churches of Upper Ten 
Mile and East Buffalo. 

The name of Thomas Hoge appears as one of the 
members constituting the Presbytery of Washington 
at its organization, October 19, 1819. 

Mr. Hoge discharged the duties of the Claysville 
pastorate until some time in the year 1826, when, at his 
own request, the relation was dissolved by the Pres- 
bytery of Washington. After an interval of two weeks 
he commenced his labors as Stated Supply, which con- 
tinued until about the middle of the year 1828. In 
1830 the congregation earnestly requested Mr. Hoge 

27 



History of the 

to return to his former pastorate. He acceded to its 
request and was again installed. During the interval, 
Mr. Hoge had been engaged in evangelistic work and 
had organized a church at Mount Nebo, near Wash- 
ington, Penn. During the same interval the Clays- 
ville Church had been supplied by appointments of 
Presbytery. The people seemed willing to call a Rev. 
Abner Leonard. Mr. Leonard, however, declined the 
acceptance of a call. 

The second pastorate of Mr. Hoge continued until 
1835, when the relation was again dissolved at his own 
request, and he was dismissed to the Presbytery of 
Philadelphia. Having served his generation accord- 
ing to the will of God, he fell asleep in Jesus, 1846. 

Mr. Hoge's successor was the Rev. Peter Hassinger, 
who was born near Newark, Del., November 24, 1801. 
Entered Princeton Theological Seminary in 1824; or- 
dained by the Presbytery of Erie, October 1, 1828, 
and of the twenty-five years of his ministerial life in 
Pennsylvania, spent the three years extending from 
1836 to 1839 as pastor of this church. In 1853 he 
changed his residence from Pennsylvania to Illinois, 
and after serving six churches in the latter State, he 
closed his life as a Presbyterial Missionary, dying at 
Lebanon, 111., on January 24, 1890, in the ninetieth 
year of his age. It was my privilege once to meet Mr. 
Hassinger at a meeting of the Synod of Illinois, when 
he impressed me as a sincere, humble man of God, 
thoroughly devoted to the work of his Master. The 
reading of the record of the Princeton Catalogue has 
made me feel that his record, along with that of the 
patriarch Job, is on high. 

28 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

In my boyhood there were stories afloat concerning 
peculiarities of Mr. Hassinger. He seems to have 
been noted for his closeness in financial matters. Most 
probably this was true. However, the records of the 
contributions to our Boards and the bequests of his 
will show that his accumulations were consecrated to 
God. If a faint recollection serves me aright, I think 
that Mrs. Hassinger, while her husband was preach- 
ing at Somerset, Penn., paid a visit to Claysville. 

Mr. Hassinger's residence was in the house which 
was once my own home, and which now stands in the 
rear of Mr. W. C. Anderson's store. At that time it 
was in the place now occupied by Mr. Anderson's 
store. 

The thirteen years which followed Mr. Hassinger's 
pastorate was what may be fitly designated as the era 
of the Stated Supply. The first minister in this rela- 
tion to the church was the Rev. John Knox, whose 
labors were confined to the years 1840-41. I have 
a perfectly distinct recollection of Mr. Knox in 
the pulpit — indeed so distinct that I hear to-day the 
sound of his voice. I remember also that he was pres- 
ent in the pew behind that occupied by our family 
one Sabbath during the early ministry of Mr. Mc- 
Carrell. Mr. Knox was an extreme Abolitionist, and 
by his fanaticism brought discredit not only on his 
usefulness and success as a minister, but on the good 
cause in defence of which the country poured out its 
treasure and its blood. I have understood that Mr. 
Knox was no ordinary preacher, and that in the course 
of everyday life he was a genial companion. His wife 
was one of the Gordon family, whose home in the 

29 



History of the 

vicinity of Washington, Penn., is so well known. His 
death took place some years ago, and it has been the 
common report in this community that he forsook the 
faith which once he had preached. 

I hiring the years [841-42 this church was under the 
care of the Rev. William Wright. Mr. Wright was a 
native of Scotland, and, as I remember him, was very 
energetic and earnest in the pulpit. I also recall a 
religions service on a week-day afternoon which he 
held at our house when we lived on the site now 
occupied by the First National Bank building. After 
one year's service Mr. Wright returned to Scotland.* 

The next supply was the venerable and venerated 
David McConaughey. D.D., LL.D., the able and faith- 
ful President of Washington College. I remember 
nothing of the matter of Dr. McConaughey's sermons, 
but I have a distinct impression to-day of the restless- 
ness of a boy under their great length. I remember 
that once (hiring the doctor's ministry a travelling 
Episcopal minister was holding a series of meetings 
in the Methodist Episcopal Church. A number of 
persons of the Presbyterian congregation thought that 
they would take the privilege of an occasional hear- 
ing, expecting to attend the usual afternoon service at 
their own church. After the service at the Methodist 

*The fact that the church's records for a period of ten or 
twelve years cannot be found is said to be due to Mr. Wright, 
who, according to report, carried them to his native land. 
Our friend, Mr. Joel Truesdell, remarks that Mr. Wright was 
a fine preacher, and was so inclined to the customs of the 
Associate branch of Presbyterianism, with reference to the 
singing of hymns, that he himself composed a version of the 
Psalms to be sung by the people. 

30 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

Church was completed, I was one of a number who 
stood at the junction of the alley and the meeting- 
house lane, waiting for the close of the morning 
service at the Presbyterian Church. We waited and 
waited and waited, until as the hour hand approached 
the figure two, the congregation commenced to empty 
itself into the meeting-house yard, The procession 
down the lane was led by Mr. William Humes, who, in 
his shirt sleeves, was speeding his way homeward, 
sawing the air most vigorously with his arms. On 
being hailed by our company, he said that the doctor, 
on account of the length of the service in the morning, 
had promised a shorter meeting in the afternoon. 
Some one made a remark about the length of the 
service. I can see Mr. Humes now as, with every 
feature of his dark face growing darker, he shouted as 
if forbearance had ceased to be a virtue, " It was outra- 
geously long." 

A boy seven or eight years of age could not under- 
stand Dr. McConaughey's sermons, but he carries to 
this day the conviction that when he looked at that 
old ambassador of Christ he saw a man of God. I 
will never forget a communion Sabbath which oc- 
curred during his ministry here. The old man had 
talked about it for weeks. As he stepped from his 
carriage that Sabbath morning, I think that I scarcely 
ever s&w a more finely dressed person. Hence I came 
to the conclusion that he felt it to be a great occasion. 

Dr. McConaughey was followed by the Rev. Joseph 
Gordon, concerning whom I retain no recollection but 
that of his personal appearance as a scholarly, refined, 
and spiritual man. 

31 



History of the 

Mr. Gordon was licensed by the Presbytery of 
Washington, April 19, 1843. He was dismissed to the 
Presbytery of Coshocton, April 17, 1845. 

The successor of Mr. Gordon was the Rev. John 
Miller, whose stature was commanding and whose 
pulpit work was quite impressive. Mr. Miller's wife 
was a daughter of the Claysville Church, being Miss 
Rebecca, the daughter of Mr. James Warrell, whose 
home gave the name to that portion of the National 
Road known as Warrell's Hill. Mr. Miller was li- 
censed by the Presbytery of Washington, October 4, 
1843, and dismissed to the Presbytery of Allegheny, 
April 16, 185 1. 

The next prophet in this valley of vision was 
Nicholas Murray, whose praise is in all the churches 
of Washington Presbytery. We all know the romantic 
story of his introduction to the Christian ministry. 
As he prophesied from Sabbath to Sabbath, the dry 
bones of the Claysville Church began to show signs of 
life. A sermon from the text " Strengthen the things 
which remain that are ready to die " gave him occa- 
sion to say that it had been proposed in the Presbytery 
of Washington to give the church of Claysville over to 
die. Professor Murray went through these churches 
like a flaming seraph, helping believers to Heaven and 
sinners to Jesus when he was not, for God took him. 

And now we come to the golden age of the past 
history of this church — the thirty-five years' pastorate 
of the Rev. Alexander McCarrell, six years as stated 
supply and twenty-nine years as pastor. In the As- 
sembly Minutes of 1844 the roll of licentiates in the 
Washington Presbytery reads thus: "John Miller, 

32 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

Thomas M. Newell, Joseph Gordon, and Alexander 
McCarrell." 

Mr. McCarrell commenced his labors at Claysville 
in October, 1846, preaching for half the time, the other 
half being given to Unity in Greene County, which 
united with Claysville in his support. It was not long 
until he ceased to preach at Unity. He continued as 
stated supply at Claysville until his installation as 
pastor, December 16, 1852. Death severed the rela- 
tion, April 18, 1881. No man during his life con- 
tributed more to the spiritual, moral, material, intel- 
lectual, and social good of this town and country than 
Dr. McCarrell. It was the aim of his life to help 
everybody and every good thing in the community. 
He kept pace with the spirit of the age. He prepared 
the boys for college. 

Soon after Dr. McCarrell's death I poured out my 
heart in a tribute to his memory, which was published 
in the Claysville Sentinel. I do not know that I can 
do better than repeat that tribute on this occasion. 



ALEXANDER MCCARRELL, D.D. 

An English family has the following sentence as 
its motto: "Through hardships to the stars." The 
voice of Inspiration informs us that " They that be 
wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; 
and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars 
for ever and ever." 

A life closed on Monday, April 18th, which linked 
these thoughts together. The history of Alexander 

33 



History of the 

McCarrell is appropriately summed up in the senti- 
ment: through the faithful preaching, the sincere 
tears, the unceasing prayers, the unwaning self-denial, 
the modest ambition, the uncompromising truthful- 
ness, the loving devotion of a pastorate of thirty-five 
years to the stars. It is true that one star differeth 
from another star in glory, but when the day revealeth 
every man's work of what sort it is, we cannot help 
but think that eternity will mark its estimate of Alex- 
ander McCarrell's ministry in a star of no mean mag- 
nitude. 

The year 1846 dates the commencement of this pas- 
torate. There are those living who will recall the 
waste place in Zion in which he summoned God's little, 
scattered, divided band to rebuild the walls of Jeru- 
salem — the careless and wicked community in which 
he lifted the standard of the Cross. The National Road 
rises before us thronged with the tide of travel as it 
flowed east and west. We hear the peal of the coach- 
man's horn and the crack of the wagoner's whip. The 
community is agitated by the Mexican war. The Gos- 
pel ministry of the neighborhood, of which there was 
not a more honored and beloved member than our 
deceased brother, numbered, among others, the patri- 
archal Hervey, the fervent Stockton, the precise Al- 
rich, the dignified McCluskey,* the dialectic Eagleson, 
the eloquent Murray, the weighty Sloan, the gentle- 

* " The dignified McCluskey," not without humor. A mem- 
ber of the Claysville Church who slept a good deal at church, 
wanted a transfer to West Alexander, but Dr. McCluskey 
remonstrated, and said that he didn't want any of those sleepy 
fellows from Claysville. 

34 




REV. JAMES L. I.EEPF.R. P.D. 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

mannered Fleming, the fatherly James McKennan, 
the flaming Cyrus Dickson, the honest Dr. J. W. Scott; 
that one whom we delight to honor to-day, Dr. Brown- 
son, and our worthy brother, Dr. Lester; the positive 
Pomeroy, the sweet-spirited Alfred Paull. 

The whole course of the McCarrell pastorate is sur- 
charged with precious and pleasant memories. Many 
who are already in Heaven, and many who are on the 
road to Heaven, were, at its commencement, drunk- 
ards, profane swearers, Sabbath breakers, and haters 
of everything good. The winds of church disturbances 
might blow more or less fiercely, yet no gale was 
strong enough to break its anchorage. It contributed 
a respectable quota to the rank and file of the min- 
istry. It never preached a sermon that did not con- 
tain a clear statement that Jesus Christ was man's 
only hope. It helped the dying to the shore of the 
dark river, as it illumined that river with the .lamp of 
the Gospel. It entered the sick-room as the angel of 
consolation. It was that word in season to the weary, 
which strengthens the bereaved. It left no road un- 
travelled — no home neglected within the vast circuit 
of its parish. In its official visitations the spirit of 
Paul went from house to house, testifying repentance 
toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. 
Its catechetical classes showed that a lover of the truth 
was laboring in doctrine. It was the right arm of the 
Sunday-school. The glorious record finds its appro- 
priate setting as poetry presents the pastor of this 
pastorate as one whose deeds were 

'* Like a living, breathing Bible — tables where 
Both covenants at large engraven were ; 

35 



History of the 

Gospel and Law on heart had each its column, 
His head an index to the Sacred Volume ; 
His very name a title page ; — and next, 
His life a commentary on the text." 

The pastorate which has just closed is in a great 
measure the history of the Claysville Presbyterian 
Church. It has left its moulding impress upon the 
church and the community. The future history of the 
church is unwritten; but no mere sentiment is ex- 
pressed when it is declared that of those who, in the 
hereafter, take up the fallen standard, no one will fill 
his niche more faithfully — round his life-circle more 
accurately — exemplify the Right more wholesomely 
—work for Christ more lovingly, than Alexander 
McCarrell. 

Mr. James L. Leeper, a graduate both of the College 
and Seminary of Princeton, was called to the vacant 
pastorate, and was ordained by the Presbytery of 
Washington, September 13, 1882. In 1886 he re- 
signed to accept a call to the First Church of Reading, 
Penn. In 1888 he was invited to the charge of the 
Second Church of Fort Wayne, Ind., where he is 
laboring with great success. Of marked pulpit ability 
and of untiring pastoral activity, Mr. Leeper left an 
abiding impression upon this region. 

The present pastorate, that of the Rev. Frank Fish, a 
graduate of the Western Theological Seminary, began 
in May, 1886, and his energetic, evangelical spirit as- 
sures us that the old church will take no step backward. 

As we sum up the pastorates, we are impressed with 
the value of biblical preaching, sound doctrine, thor- 
ough spirituality, and faithful pastoral labor. 

36 




J£» 




REV. FRANK FISH 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 



The Elders 

Joseph Donahey, Sr., September 20, 1820, living for 
God in his children and children's children;* Archi- 
bald Brownlee, September 20, 1820, a name so frequent 
in the church records of Washington County as to 
make one of the tribes of God's spiritual Israel; Barnet 
Bonar, November 26, 1820, a man with the courage 
of his convictions; Dr. John Hair, November 28, 1824, 
cut down in the midst of his usefulness; William Mc- 
Lain, February 5, 1832, to me always venerable and 
apparently stern, yet really full of the temper and spirit 
of Christ; George McConaughey, by nature a gentle- 
man and by grace an intelligent Christian churchman; 
Robert Woods, 1841, so genial and kind; Hugh Craig, 
March 17, 1850, a specimen of meekness, quietness, 
and reliability; John Hoon, March 17, 1850, a man 
who, when he found Christ, held on to Him ; Nicholas 
Bearly, March 17, 1850, so keen in intellect; Alexander 
K. Craig, April 19, 1857, the whole community so 
mourned him that the heartsore is still fresh; Joseph 
Donahey, Jr., June 21, 1857, so quick in temper, posi- 
tive in opinion, unyielding in decision, yet withal the 
subject of a consecration that laid his open pocket- 
book at the feet of Jesus; John McLain, June 1, 1863, 
his walk with God the path of Enoch; Thomas S.Irwin, 
June 1, 1863, a rigid devotee of order, yet no better 

*A person says that once during Mr. Hoge's ministry 
Uncle Joseph Donahey, who was clerk at the time, fell asleep 
and awoke in a rage because he was awakened at Mr. Hoge's 
request. 

37 



Hii the 

neighbor; John Sawhill, June 27, [869, respected by 
everybody; Thomas Henderson, Juno 27, [869, my 
father's and mother's friend, who now lives in God; 
Dr, Franklin P, Scott, June 27, 1S00. a willing spirit; 
Hugh McClelland, Juno 27, [867, one of the youngest 
old men I ever knew; Thomas Ritezel, December 23, 
1883 don't remember when I did not know him. 
He was so mature in his thought and ways that 

must have been fifty years old when he was born. 
Tommy Ritezel, who would not honor thy memory? 
A purer, truer spirit never breathed in Claysville); 
John A. Dickey, December 23, 1883, serving God in 
his generation; Joseph R Mel. am, December 13, [883, 
always energetic; Dr. George fnglis, December 23, 
[883, a name which recalls the cradle of Presbyterian- 
isin; Andrew Henderson, December 23, [883, never a 
busier worker tor the Master; James Moixee. who 
finished the work which God gave him to do. 



Tin- Congregation 

We are told that the early audiences which gathered 
before the wooden tent of [820, averaged from one 
hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty persons. 
The Presbytery reports the Claysville Church as 
follows: 

182] . . .Mr. Hoge, p.istor 10 meml 

1824... '■ " 5* 

1829 .Vacant no 

1830. ...Ml stor 116 

1 S ; 1 . . . . • ' " 1 1 q 

183a.... - - 127 " 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 



1833 
1834.. 
1837.. 
1838.. 

1839.. 

1842. . 

1843.. 
1844 • 
1846.. 



Mr. Hoge, pastor 130 men 

" 133 

Mr. Hassinger, pastor ioi 

" u8 

Vacant 114 

66 

Wrn. Wrigl 68 

Vacant 63 

5o 



When I jr. McCarrell commenced his work there 

re sixty-two members. During his pastorate 353 

were added to the church on examination, and 150 on 

certificate — total, 503; and of the:-.'-, [03 '.ere baptized. 
A membership of 32* the credit of the church 

on the Assembly Minutes of J895. 

It would scarcely be in accordance with the conven- 
tional use of the term to call the Claysville Church a 
revival church. Yet I only speak the truth when I 
say that the only revival I know of in its history is the 
revival of pure and undefiled religion, which character- 
ized the whole of the McCarrell ministry. That minis- 
try was not a succession of spiritual upheavals, but it 
was the revival which evinces itself in constant, steady, 
quiet growth in numbers and in spirituality. 

During the first half of the forties the ways of Zion 
literally mourned as the sparse gathering in the meet- 
ing-house on the hill impressed even a boy with 
the fact that of this community comparatively few 
came to the solemn feasts. The silent Sabbaths of 
this period were many, and as the direct consequence 
the moral, to say nothing of the spiritual tone of the 
village and the surrounding country, had reached a 



39 



History of the 

very low and discouraging condition. But in 1846 the 
tide of spiritual life and power commenced to rise, and 
from the fifties until to-day, the Claysville congrega- 
tion has been a centre of local influence and has had 
a good report from without. 

I propose now to invite you again to stir up your 
minds in the way of remembrance with a typical Lord's 
Day of the period, which includes the later forties and 
the whole of the fifties. It is a summer Sabbath. Our 
fathers knew nothing of vacations. It is one of those 
fine June days which make the Sabbath a bridal of the 
earth and sky. The farm is at rest. The week-day 
hum of the village is hushed. The doors and windows 
of the meeting-house are thrown open. Between nine 
and ten o'clock the Sunday-school contingent com- 
mences to gather, and the town and country children 
exchange their greetings. The individual boys and 
girls who composed those Sunday morning parlia- 
ments have faded from my recollection, with one ex- 
ception, and that was Curry's Bill Wallace. But Mc- 
Carrell's " Fan " drops her load at the hitching rail, 
and each one makes his or her way into the church. 
Dr. McCarrell identified himself so closely with the 
Sunday-school that to his dying day he was a con- 
stituent part of it. And why a Sunday-school should 
be less to any preacher, where providential circum- 
stances do not intervene, than the morning and even- 
ing congregation, I cannot conceive. In those days 
the " Church Hymn Book " furnished our Sunday- 
school music. We sang over and over " The Rosy 
Light is Dawning," " Another Six Days' Work is 
Done," " Dear Saviour, if these Lambs should Stray," 

40 





(See obituary notice in Appendix) 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

" With Humble Heart and Tongue." After the de- 
votional service the exercises commenced. 

I want to lay a wreath to-day on the grave of 
Thaddeus C. Noble, my first Sunday-school teacher. 
The most prominent class in the school was the pas- 
tor's Bible class. As I look from these after years 
upon that Bible class I do think that it was the Gos- 
pel net of the early days of the McCarrell ministry. 
There was no time wasted on Bible puzzles, but the 
Word of God was presented as able to save the soul. 
In connection with that class I recall Joe Craig as 
mighty in the Scriptures. In the course of time an 
institution grew up which we youngsters styled " the 
old boys' class." It was a kind of a theological ex- 
change, where Squire McLain, Squire Craig, Squire 
Bearly, my father, and others, used to search the 
Scriptures, and reason out of them. The Interna- 
tional Lesson System had not yet come into vogue, 
and there was a sort of go-as-you-please use of the 
Bible. In my opinion, the best exercise of that day 
was the repetition of verses of Scripture committed 
to memory. Of course, the Sunday-school Conven- 
tion crank would have pointed his ridicule with our 
Sunday-school. But when the judgment day makes up 
its record, methinks that we will understand its use- 
fulness as Heaven's roll-call announces the writing of 
the Lord that this and that one were born there. One 
of the great events of my boy-life was the Sunday- 
school celebration of July 5, 1847. Dr. McCarrell 
talked about it for weeks. The West Alexander School 
joined us. Claysville swarmed with people. The pro- 
cession was almost, if not altogether, the length of the 
4 41 



History of the 

street. I recall the form of Dr. McCluskey. Joe Hen- 
derson, in behalf of the West Alexander, presented our 
school a lot of testaments to be used for prizes. Then 
came the feast, and we children were stuffed with gin- 
ger-bread and cold water. 

But while the Sunday-school is in session, let us 
stand in the centre of the yard and look to the four 
points of the compass. I turn to the north, and Dutch 
Fork sends forth the Meloys, Zeiglers, Hayburns, 
Moores, and Craigs; Brush Run its Flacks and 
Georges; Taylorstown its Hodgens, Williamses, Wil- 
sons. I look to the east, and down Warrell's Hill pour, 
by carriage, horseback, and afoot, the McLains, Dona- 
heys, Craigs, Currys, Hendersons, and Warrells. I 
cast my eye along Warrell's lane, and from the south 
pour into the pike the Lucases, the Woodses, the Fin- 
leys, the Alexander girls, John McLain, the Sawhills, 
and the Stewarts. I look to the southwest, and along 
come the Hairs, the Griffiths, the Herrons, the Aber- 
crombies, the Millses, the George McConaugheys, the 
Porters, the Robinsons, the Johnnie Andersons. I 
look to the west, and there appear on Porter's Hill the 
Lairds, the Dennisons, and the Sam Bonars.* I look 

* Says a venerable member of this church : '* The first 
carriage I ever saw at Claysville was one that Mr. Donahey 
owned — a sort of a wagon of a thing. A great curiosity it 
was. I scarcely remember whether it had any springs or not." 

Another person says that when she and her brothers and 
sisters were children that their father and mother would ride 
to church on horseback, and that they (the children) would go 
in their bare feet until a short distance from town, when they 
would put on their shoes, the usual place for the shoeing being 
Billy Knox's lane. 

42 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

down in the direction of the village, and as the men and 
women of my week-day acquaintance enter the church- 
yard, I cannot help but wonder at the transformation 
Sunday clothes do effect upon the inhabitants of Clays- 
ville. It was the day of the frock coat, the old-fash- 
ioned swallow-tail, and satin vest; and when you saw 
Mr. Cooper in his Sunday suit, Squire Bearly in his 
swallow-tail, Pap and Anthony Mealy in their broad- 
cloth, John Hoon in his store clothes, George Mc- 
Conaughey looking like a doctor of divinity, Major 
Irwin like a military officer off duty, Thomas Hender- 
son in dark brown, Asbury Caldwell, and Jim Finley, 
and Jim Woods, and Chester Abercrombie, and the 
rest of the young men who sat in front of the choir, all 
as spick and span as the weaver and tailor and shoe- 
maker and soap and water and hair oil could make 
them; and, along with all these, when you saw our 
mothers in satin and silk and bombazine; the girls, 
young and old, in every color of the rainbow, and on a 
warm day clad in white; and the children in the re- 
action consequent upon the torture of the Saturday 
night scrub — I feel now, as I did then, that I was proud 
of the appearance of the Sunday congregation of 
Claysville. Since those golden days I have seen many 
brilliant congregations, and have felt the influence of 
architecture, music, and eloquence in impressing the 
eye, the^ ear, and, I might say, the heart, but none of 
them have wiped out memory's picture of the sturdy, 
plain, Bible-believing, God-fearing, and God-worship- 
ping folk that were wont to cluster around Jesus on 
His day in the meeting-house on the hill. 

The summons of the opening hymn or anthem by 

43 



History of the 

the choir soon filled the pews. The first psalm or 
hymn was then sung. It was followed by the long 
prayer. Then the Scriptures were read. Another 
hymn was sung. Then came the sermon, the after- 
prayer, and the last hymn, in their order. The an- 
nouncements were made either before or after the last 
hymn. 

A chapter of reminiscence, brimful of inspiration, 
yet not without its sprinkle of humor, might be written 
on the service of song in the Claysville Presbyterian 
Church. My first recollections are of a railing in front 
of the pulpit, surmounted by a Bible-shaped piece of 
wood, behind which one, if not two, clerks stood to 
lead the singing. I have a very distinct impression of 
Messrs. Robert Woods and George McConaughey. I 
feel to-day the wonder with which, while as a boy, I 
used to notice the width to which Mr. Woods was wont 
to open his mouth as the Lord filled it with music. Mr. 
McConaughey always seemed to start a tune as if he 
expected a breakdown, but when the people found out 
what he was after, they came to the rescue. The 
congregation used Rouse's version of the Psalms of 
David in my early childhood. I have not forgotten a 
Sunday that my father brought home a new hymn- 
book. 

The days were when the singing school was the 
glory of this region. The singing master was one of 
the institutions. The Todd family, of West Alexander, 
were famous as instructors in the art of sacred music. 
Just about the time of Dr. McCarrell's advent a sing- 
ing school was in progress, under the direction of a Mr. 
Pease. He instructed both the adults and the young 

44 




REV. A. A. MEALY 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

people by means of the violin. He closed his school 
with a grand concert. As the result of his work a 
choir was organized, than which, in my opinion, Clays- 
ville never had a better. For several years it was a 
feature of the religious service which attracted the 
whole country around. I recall Mr. James Finley, 
the tenor; Mr. James Woods, the boy alto, and Miss 
Sarah McLain, the soprano. Another valuable in- 
structor in sacred music was Mr. Coburn, who could 
not live without his cup of tea. For several years 
Mr. George Lucas was the faithful leader of the 
choir, and after his departure to another State Mr. 
Alexander K. Craig led the service of praise un- 
til God called him to join the redeemed in the new 
song of the heavenly choir. According to our fathers 
and mothers, the music book of the early days was the 
" Missouri Harmony." In my day it included the 
" Psalmodist," the " Christian Minstrel," and the 
" Presbyterian Psalmodist." 

" And how my thoughts go backward 
To Sabbaths gone so long, 
When voices death and years have hushed 
Joined with mine clear and strong ! 

" In ' Dundee,' ' Mear,' and * Brattle Street,' 
Or ' Windham's ' solemn strain, 
\ Glad ' Coronation's ' joyous notes 
And 'Lenox,' soft refrain." 

The thought of that old choir stirs me with the plain- 
tive flow of " Hebron," the sweet measures of " War- 
wick," the heavenward lift of " Shirland," the longing 
of " Balerma," and the heavenly swell of " Frederick." 

45 



History of the 

The service of prayer in our village had one char- 
acteristic that tried the boys of the period, and that was 
length. The long prayer was generally long. 

The sermons of the time consulted length rather 
than brevity. I grew up on three generally, but often 
four particulars; three, four, or five remarks under each 
particular, concluding with a repetition of the sermon 
by way of application. I think that it is in accordance 
with the truth to say that the Claysville pulpit through- 
out its whole history has been given to the scriptural, 
logical, doctrinal, uncompromising, direct, practical, 
pastoral preaching of Christ and Him crucified. 

The red-letter days of these olden times are the com- 
munion seasons. The sacrament, Sunday, was an oc- 
casion which drew the people for miles around. Or- 
dinarily there was a four days' service, and generally 
one, and sometimes two or three, strange ministers 
were present. The reception of the elements by the 
communicants in their pews was an innovation of com- 
paratively late introduction in Claysville. To my 
mind the venerable custom of celebrating the Lord's 
Supper by means of tables has the advantage over 
the modern custom in the way of impressive solemnity. 
I, as a boy, felt that Christ was very near as the com- 
municants approached and left the table; the opening 
hymn being " 'Twas on that Dark and Doleful Night." 

And those communion addresses — Noah, the 
preacher of righteousness; Moses, the expounder of the 
law; Samuel, the faithful minister; Elijah, the prophet 
of fire; Isaiah, touched with the live coal; spirit-filled 
Peter; the loving John; the irresistible Stephen; de- 
voted Paul, once and again at the table of their Lord 

46 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

and ours — made our communion seasons the house of 
God and the gate of Heaven. And oh, how many of 
the ministers of God who delivered those addresses, 
how many of the communicants who heard them, have 
gone through that gate to drink the new wine with 
their Master in the kingdom of Heaven! 

Right here I must interject a word about the weekly 
prayer-meetings, which were held from house to house, 
at the homes, alternately, of the villagers and country 
people. To have tried to find anything sensational 
in them would have been to search for hen-teeth. But 
the same Jesus was in their midst that made the upper 
room what it was on the Day of Pentecost, and the 
house of Mary, the mother of Mark, what it was when 
the prayed-for Peter knocked at the door a delivered 
man. 

Dr. McCarrell also, for many years, alternated the 
winter season with the pastoral visit and the cate- 
chetical class. The pastoral visit was a simon-pure 
dealing of God with the individual soul, and the cate- 
chetical class an effort to ground the people in the 
truth. 

Now, for a little while, let us transfer ourselves to a 
Sabbath service of the olden time. On the right of the 
pulpit sat the family of the pastor, the little boys then, 
now in the service of the church. Back of that I recall 
the Meloys and the Mehaffeys. Going toward the 
door, on the north aisle, in the first wall seat on the 
north side, are Mr. and Mrs. Hoon, who are still here 
to testify for the Master they have served so long. 
Then comes that grand figure, Mrs. Flack, the daugh- 
ter of Dr. John Anderson. Mr. Mealy is still left to 

47 



History of the 

recall that bright-faced wife and mother whose old age 
was like Heaven's benediction. And our old family 
pew awakens thoughts unutterable. Oh, how much of 
the Henderson, and, I believe, all of the Stewart pew, 
are in yonder city on the hill! And those quaint 
Alexander girls — Faithy's voice once heard was never 
forgotten — as it made a person think of the North 
of Ireland. Then the Bearlys and Brockmans, and 
next, the Mecrackens; and how can I have forgotten to 
notice the Ritezels in my way? I turn my face toward 
the pulpit, and two or three seats before the pulpit 
are rilled with the young men of the community. Then 
come the Lucas pew and the Craig pew; and I 
think of John as, with some college companion, he 
enters the door; of Joe as he never turned an eye from 
the preacher; of Will as he sleeps in a southern land. 
Then Mr. Humes's; the McLains, ever present. I walk 
over to the southwestern corner, and where are Mr. 
and Mrs. McConaughey and Warren and Wylie and 
Kate? — in Heaven. Then Mr. John Kelley's pew. 
Stately Mrs. Dennison has exchanged her pew for a 
place in the heavenly temple. Going along the wall 
pews of the south aisle, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are not 
there; but I will never forget the white head that rose 
above the entrance of the next pew — Mr. Warrell. 
The next was occupied by Mr. Campsey. Not far be- 
hind was one whom everybody knew to respect — John 
Laird, than whom the Claysville Church never had a 
more devoted adherent. I turn my face to the pulpit 
again, and, passing along, see once more the Finleys, 
the Woods, and the Donaheys. 

And as I recall the families of this church and think 
4 3 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

of such women as Mrs. William McLain; as the faith- 
ful Mrs. McCarrell; as the noble Mrs. Flack; as that 
exhibition of womanly dignity, Mrs. Thomas Miller, 
formerly Mrs. Truesdell; as that quiet and noble 
character, Mrs. Hugh Craig; as the motherly Mrs. 
Robert Woods; as the excellent Mrs. McConaughey 
(and this period can only properly be finished by 
speaking of every wife and mother of the Claysville 
Israel) — I say that if the ancient Horace felt that it 
was something that he had raised a monument more 
enduring than brass, I feel that in the history of this 
church, in the men and women both at home and 
abroad, in the citizens and soldiers who have been 
faithful to their country and their God, the wives and 
mothers of the Claysville Church, because they were 
as brave as Deborah and as prayerful as Hannah, and 
as true to their children and grandchildren as Eunice 
and Lois, and as true to Christ as the women at the 
cross and sepulchre, are able to point to this church, 
this community, to those who live in it, to those who 
have gone from it, and say, as Sir Christopher Wren 
said of St. Paul's in London: " If you wish to see our 
monument, look around you." 

Thus I have endeavored to restore the palimpsest 
of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. De Quincey 
tells us that " a palimpsest is a membrane or roll 
cleansed of its manuscript by reiterated successions." 
He instances a parchment that originally contained a 
Grecian tragedy. In the course of time the monks 
wanted to use it, and made it the transcript of one of 
their legends. Then the age of chivalry came on, and 
somebody used it for a knightly romance. 

49 



History of the 

Now; the chemistry by which the monks thought 
that they had erased the Grecian tragedy — by which 
the authors of the knightly romance thought that they 
had erased the monkish legend, was imperfect. The 
more elaborate chemistry of modern times has restored 
the original writing. The incidents which link this 
church to every individual directly or indirectly con- 
nected with it are like the original writing on that 
parchment. That writing may be written over with 
the toils and triumphs of earth, so written over that 
we may not see this church's story of the individual. 
But just as the romance from that Greek parchment, 
which some young girl may have adored, has perished; 
just as that knightly legend which may have deluded 
some boy has gone — so all that this whole world is to 
the men and women, the boys and girls of this church, 
will fade away to show the story of what this church 
has done for these men and women and boys and girls 
in relation to eternity. I accommodate to my purpose 
the following: 

Chiselling for God 

A stone-cutter was at work under his shed, chiselling 
on a block of stone, preparing it to be placed in the 
walls of some edifice. A friend stepping in asked the 
question: 

" What is to be done with this stone? " 
" I have not seen the plan," was the stone-cutter's 
reply; and on he went with his chiselling, content pa- 
tiently and steadily to work day by day, getting it ready 
for its designed place — chiselling, chiselling, chiselling. 

50 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

The history of the Claysville Church is the history 
of many patient and earnest workers who spent this life 
chiselling for God — the faithful minister in his ap- 
pointed sphere, the humble and devoted wife at home 
among her children, and a thousand other workers 
who steadily pursued their course, day after day, until 
life ended. 

They did not " see the plan," and yet they toiled in 
hope. They knew that the great Architect knew 
exactly where to place each stone in the building, and 
they went on with their chiselling — it may be, beguil- 
ing the weary hours with a song. 

Think you the Master will not pay them their wages? 
As in His presence they are enjoying their wages, they 
speak to us from Heaven, saying: " He will." * 

* Chancellor Day. 



51 



History of the 



A Sketch of Alexander McCarrell, D.D., 

THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS PASTOR OF THE PRESBY- 
TERIAN CHURCH OF CLAYSVILLE, PENN. 

By Rev. William H. Lester, D.D., 
Pastor of the Presbyterian Church of West Alexander, Penn. 

The Psalmist's words : " The righteous shall be in 
everlasting remembrance," may justly be applied to 
our departed brother. " None knew him but to love 
him." His pleasant manners, tender heart, fervent 
piety, strength of Christian character, and devoted life 
impressed every one who knew him. These qualities 
under God were greatly blessed in promoting the 
growth and strength of this church, and making it a 
power in this community. 

Alexander McCarrell was born near Cross Creek 
village, Washington County, Pennsylvania, June 15, 
1819. 

Very precious memories clustered around the hour 
of his childhood. His father, a moral man, did not 
become a professed follower of the Saviour till quite 
late in life. His mother was a devoted Christian. Her 
example, prayers, and instruction left their impress 
on his son — the " child of the covenant." He has 
told me it was the aim and effort of her life that he 
should become a minister of the Gospel. When only 

52 




j^d^i^uzi^y^^L^aAx^C. 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

a small boy he was a constant attendant with her in 
the Sabbath services of God's house. In early life he 
became a subject of grace, and united with the church 
of Cross Creek, of which John Stockton, D.D., was the 
pastor. The mother found in her pastor a faithful 
adviser and helper. lie assisted him in his studies and 
prepared him for Washington College, from which he 
graduated in 1841. Brother McCarrell regarded Dr. 
Stockton as his " father in the Lord," and always spoke 
of him with great respect as the man who, more than 
any other, turned him to the Saviour and the ministry. 
In the college his record was that of a diligent stu- 
dent and a consistent Christian. In the town his 
" godly walk and conversation," his straightforward 
life, commended him to all. He was taken under the 
care of the Presbytery of Washington in 1841. His 
theological studies were under the direction of Dr. 
Stockton. He was licensed April 17, 1844, and or- 
dained by the same Presbytery, April 17, 1845. With 
a heart full of the love of Christ and souls, he was 
ready for his work. Previous to this he was married 
to Miss Martha McLain, a daughter of Mr. Wm. Mc- 
Lain, long a ruling elder in this church. Her brothers, 
John and Joseph McLain, served in the same ca- 
pacity many years, and have been a tower of strength 
in the Claysville Church, withholding no labor, 
money, or self-denial to promote its welfare. 

In his wife he found a " helpmeet " worthy of his 
heart and work. I have seldom seen a woman of more 
tender, prayerful, consecrated spirit, whose whole life 
was so bound up in her husband's work of saving 
souls as was hers. 

53 



History of the 

He began his ministerial life in the church of Unity, 
Greene County, Pennsylvania, in 1846, giving a part of 
the time as a supply to the church of Claysville. His 
labors were so blessed that in 1852 he was called to 
this church, over which he was installed as pastor. 
This relation continued until his death, 1881. The 
Unity home was a log cabin in the yard of Mr. Brad- 
dock, and was given to the young preacher without 
rent. The salary was small ; the house had one room, 
and the conveniences were few. But no murmurs 
came from the occupants, no self-denials discouraged 
them in their work; they sought not theirs, but them; 
they labored to save souls, and they gathered in the 
harvest. 

Three children were born to them, on whom God 
set the seal of His covenant blessing. Like their 
parents, the sons have done a noble work in the church 
of Christ. The father has told me that in the old log 
church of Unity and the log house of one room they 
had some of the happiest days and most blessed en- 
joyments of their lives. The spirit of Christ in the 
heart makes everything bright and beautiful, even in 
poverty. 

His life-work was, however, done in Claysville. 
Thirty-five years he prosecuted his vocation without 
interruption and with great success. His zeal was un- 
tiring and his labors unremitting. In all this period of 
pastoral work he took no vacations for bodily recu- 
peration and rest, until infirmity of health compelled 
it. He toiled on perseveringly, hopefully, until he 
could no longer work for the Master. He died in the 
pastorate — the harness on when he fell. This was 

54 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

what he had prayed for and wanted — to go direct from 
the earthly labor to the unending rest. 

I will notice briefly only a few traits of the character 
and life of Brother McCarrell. 

I. He was an industrious man, prompt and faithful 
in everything he undertook. He was not a man of 
profound and varied learning. The constant calls in 
all his ministerial life — for pastoral work, visiting the 
sick, attending funerals outside his own congregation, 
preaching in revival services in other churches, and his 
own pulpit work — forbade this. His Bible, Concord- 
ance, and a few wisely chosen books, well read, were 
his books of study. As our congregations lay side by 
side we were close neighbors, and I knew more of 
his preaching than that of any other man in the Pres- 
bytery. He did not point his sermons with sensational 
incidents — nothing to provoke levity fell from his lips. 
The sacredness of his calling and solemn import of his 
message forbade that. " I am determined to know 
nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified " per- 
vaded every discourse. Doctrine, duty, and experi- 
ence were happily combined in his pulpit efforts. 
When he stood at the sacred desk his appearance was 
so solemn, his words so tremulous with emotion, and 
his soul so full of the tender and beseeching spirit of his 
Lord, that every hearer felt he was in the presence of a 
man who had just come from the mercy-seat and re- 
ceived the anointing of the Holy Spirit. One sermon 
preached in my own pulpit, in a time of revival, espe- 
cially impressed itself on my mind. It was Eliezer's 
appeal to the father of Rebekah for the daughter's 
hand in marriage to Isaac, his master's son. " And 

55 



History of the 

now if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master, 
tell me; and if not, tell me, that I may turn to the right 
or to the left." It was a plea full of tears with souls 
out of Christ for an immediate decision in the matter 
of personal acceptance of the Lord Jesus. The sermon 
was full of power. It was greatly blessed of God. I 
felt then that he came up to Paul's measure of the 
true minister of the Word: " We are ambassadors for 
Christ, as though God did beseech you by us, we pray 
you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." It 
was " in the demonstration of the spirit and of power." 
He often preached in this manner. No one ever 
laughed under his sermons. Multitudes here wept. 
With him the pulpit was too sacred a place for trifling. 
He was a born Presbyterian. The doctrines set forth 
in the Catechisms and Confession of Faith, he heartily 
accepted and preached. They were the creed of his 
head and heart; yet he was a man of broad Christian 
views, ready to reach a fraternal hand to those who 
differed from him. The first step looking to the union 
of the old and new school branches of the church was 
taken at the Assembly's meeting in Newark, N. J., 
1864. Brother McCarrell was a member of that As- 
sembly. About forty ministers and elders signed a 
paper, of which he was one, in the interest of a union 
of the two branches of the church. I asked him why, 
in the absence of instruction from his Presbytery, he 
did it. He replied, " It was my own act. We are all 
brethren, and we must come together to do the Lord's 
work." 

2. In the spirit and power of prayer he surpassed 
almost any one I have ever known. 

56 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

In reading the private diary of Dr. Andrew Bonar, 
published since his death, I was impressed with the 
spirituality of the man born of prayer. A large part 
of his waking hours was spent in prayer. He did 
nothing except by prayer. I was reminded of Brother 
McCarrell. He was a wrestling Jacob. His face, like 
that of Moses, shone from spiritual contact with his 
Lord. There was not a house in the Claysville con- 
gregation that was not hallowed by his prayers. In 
the sick-rooms of his people he was welcomed because 
he was a " son of consolation " and prayer. I have 
often seen him so overcome by his feelings that he 
could hardly go on with the service. Not far from the 
close of the Civil War, when brethren were alienated 
and the spiritual condition of our border churches was 
low, I assisted in a week's preaching before his winter 
communion. The Sabbath was a stormy winter day; 
the congregation was small, and there seemed to be 
very little religious interest among the people. He 
and his wife were in great distress over the condition 
of the church. They went apart to pray. That night 
it was all changed. The Spirit of the Lord came upon 
the assembled people. More than a score of anxious 
souls asked for prayer; the meetings were continued, 
and a large number were converted and united with the 
church. On the night of that Pentecostal outpouring 
there Was little sleep in that house. I could hear that 
man and woman, through the thin partition that sepa- 
rated our rooms, agonizing in prayer until near the 
break of day, and, Jacob-like, they prevailed. 

3. Justice requires I should speak of Brother Mc- 
Carrell as a pastor. In this work he excelled. He 

5 57 



History of the 

never was a strong and robust man, yet in all seasons 
and in all kinds of weather, at all hours, he responded 
to every call. His winning way, warm heart, and 
well-chosen words fitted him for pastoral work. In 
sickness, among his own congregation and those not 
of his church, he was sought for and his labors greatly 
blessed. 

He was wise to win souls for Christ. Those in doubt 
and spiritual trouble went to him for guidance and 
counsel. He lifted the veil from many a doubting 
Christian, and led him to the light and to peace. Anx- 
ious inquirers sought him, and his happy way of deal- 
ing with them was blessed in their conversion. 

He went to every house in the congregation each 
year in pastoral visitation, except the last year or two, 
when he was unable through bodily infirmity. He 
knew every member of the congregation personally, 
and every child he could call by name. He loved the 
children; they loved him. They felt at home with 
him and enjoyed his company. He had the happy gift 
of speaking to people in the matter of their personal 
salvation as much as any man I have known. Like 
one of whom I have read, " he looked on every man 
he met as a possible saint," and he sought to have him 
become such. There are peculiar persons in almost 
every church, hard to approach on the subject of their 
personal salvation. Pastors hesitate to do it. He did it, 
even in the case of strangers, with such rare tact as 
never to give offence and always to have a courteous 
hearing. 

He was a man of remarkable promptness in keeping 
his appointments and fulfilling his engagements. He 

53 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

never failed unless providentially hindered, and his 
brethren felt he could always be depended upon. His 
last work was done when he was physically unable for 
it. It was the writing of the annual narrative of the 
state of religion of this church for Presbytery. It was 
written with a trembling hand, and when read he had 
gone to the redeemed in Heaven. He was for many 
years the stated clerk of the Presbytery. The minutes 
were always correctly kept and with great care. If the 
writing clerk blundered, or his work was illegible, it 
was the frequent remark, " Brother McCarrell will 
make it right when he transcribes them on the Presby- 
terial Book," and it was left to him. 

He was a conscientious and systematic giver to the 
benevolent work of the church. He never had a large 
income, but as money came to him, a tithe was set 
apart to the Lord's cause. After his death a sum of 
money was found in an envelope, appropriately 
marked, to be given to the Boards. 

He was an excellent Presbyter. He was wise in 
shaping and carrying on the business of the body. I 
never knew him to lose the balance of his temper, or to 
say an unkind or ungentlemanly word in debate. His 
self-control was such that he was never called upon to 
retract or modify any remark he had made. While this 
spirit of kindness was so manifest, this readiness to de- 
fer td others was so marked, he was firm in his convic- 
tions and decided in his opinions. When it came to 
matters of conscience and principle he was as immov- 
able as a rock. He would not yield to any man. He 
was not obstinate, but unflinchingly true to what he 
believed to be right. The last time he was at Pres- 

59 



History of the 

bytery was in December, four months before his death. 
A matter to which he was opposed came before the 
body. It was postponed to the April meeting for final 
action. He arose to his feet with difficulty. He could 
only stand by holding the back of the seat, so weak 
was he. He said, " If that matter is passed upon af- 
firmatively by this body, and I am alive, I shall enter 
on the record my solemn protest." These words were 
the last words he ever spoke in Presbytery, and were 
indicative of the man. 

4. He was a happy Christian. It could not be other- 
wise. With a buoyant and a hopeful temperament, a 
heart full of love to his Saviour, and a life so conse- 
crated and abounding in good works, he must be a 
happy man. He was too modest to parade his piety 
to the world, but every one who knew him felt the 
power and charm of that " life which was hid with 
Christ in God." The peace within was manifested in 
the spirit of the man in his daily life, which was a 
" living epistle read and known of all men." 

The blessed fruit of his work and life abounded. Its 
hallowed influence radiated in an ever-widening circle 
beyond all measurement. Many young men were pre- 
pared for college by him who have entered the minis- 
try. The impress of his character was stamped on 
them, and, like him, they have and are doing good 
work for the Master. Had he done nothing but this, 
his life would have been well spent and worthy of 
honor. 

In the early years of his ministry, when his health 
was comparatively good, he was sought for in pro- 
tracted meetings by the neighboring churches. He 

60 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

was adapted to this work and blessed in it. He la- 
bored in many revivals in these congregations, and was 
greatly blessed. 

But he was married to the church of Claysville. He 
could say to it, as Paul said to the Corinthian Chris- 
tians, " Ye are in my heart to live and die with you." 
If I were to give the result of Brother McCarrell's life 
in a word, it would be the Church of Jesus Christ in 
Claysville. 

When he came to this congregation its membership 
was small, its spirituality low, and the outlook not 
flattering. He "coveted no man's silver or gold." 
He came to " strengthen the things which remained 
and were ready to die." He gave himself without any 
reserve to the building up of this Zion. He had 
anxious days and nights. He sowed in tears. He 
reaped in joy. His labors were full of blessing. " What 
hath God wrought! " This church, large in numbers, 
abounding in liberality, vigorous in Christian work, 
united in the bonds of the Spirit, is the God-given fruit 
of his life. 

He was not a perfect man. No one was so con- 
scious of this as he. A sight of himself made him 
humble and kept him close to the fountain of all fitness 
and strength. I only claim for him the ability and 
gifts, of other men, made attractive and useful by the 
indwelling presence of his Lord. 

In closing, I venture to lift the curtain of his home 
life, and see him as the husband and father of the 
family. Mrs. Martha McL. McCarrell was his long- 
time wife and companion, passing away only a few 
months before him. They were heart-satisfied with 

61 



History of the 

each other. So united were they in affections, SO similar 
in their sympathies, ami SO one in their lite-work, it 
" seemed as if they had but one soul between them." 
She entered into his work with all her heart, and was 
no less loved and respected, and. in her sphere, no less 
useful than he. It was in every sense a Christian 
family. The children look hack to that home, so full 
of precious associations of their sainted father and 
mother, with thankful hearts. When he was at the 
meetings of Presbytery or preaching for his brethren, 
he was contented until his work was done: then noth- 
ing could keep him. His feet and heart were home- 
ward turned. Their children were the children of the 
covenant, becoming God's children in early life. The 
eldest son. lion. S. J, M. McCarrell, is an elder in the 
Presbyterian Church in Harrisburgh, and a faithful 
worker in the vineyard. Rev. Win. A. McCarrell, of 
Shippensburgh, Penn., Rev. J. J. McCarrell, of Mc- 
Keesport, Penn., and Rev.T. C. McCarrell.of Waynes- 
boro, Perm., are ministers in the Presbyterian Church. 
It is enough to say of them — they honor the home, 
name, and religion of their parents. One daughter, 
Lizzie, was called to the Master in her girlhood, giving 
comforting assurance of her interest in the Lord. 

The summons to " come up hither " fust came to the 
wife. It was a gradual failing of her strength, extend- 
ing through several months. 1 was attending a fu- 
neral of one of my members who died while on a visit 
in Claysville. It was only a few days before her death. 
1 went to their house. She was calm, and peacefully 
awaiting the time of her departure. It was just such 
a closing of the earthly life as one might look for in 

62 




REV. W. A M'.CAKKEI.I. 




REV. J. J. McCARRELL, D.D. 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

one who had lived so near her Lord, and experienced 
so fully of His saving grace. It was the going down of 
the sun without a cloud in its sky. Her husband was 
broken-hearted. He leaned upon me and wept bit- 
terly. " She has been so much to me in my life, my 
home, and my work, I cannot give her up. It will be 
well with her — but what will I do? " were some of the 
words that came from his stricken heart. From that 
time he began to fail in health. Her death he re- 
garded as the call to him to set his house in order. Un- 
able to discharge his duties in the churcn, his people 
relieved him of all care in this respect by securing 
supplies for the pulpit for several months, a kindness 
he fully appreciated. He sometimes thought he would 
be able to take up his work, but rest brought no return 
of strength. He gradually sank, and entered into 
rest, April 18, 1881. 

I was often with him during his illness. He was 
assured of his interest in the Saviour. I think doubts 
never troubled him as the end came near. It was a 
happy going home. His funeral service was in the 
church where he had so long preached, conducted by 
his brethren of the Presbytery. A mourning congre- 
gation followed him to the grave, in which he was 
gently laid by his four sons, at the side of their sainted 
mother. They rest securely under the covenant prom- 
ise of " even so them that sleep in Jesus, will God bring 
with Him." 



63 



History of the 



Address 

By Henry Woods, D.D., 

Professor of Latin in Washington and Jefferson College, and Pastor of the 
East Buffalo Presbyterian Church, Washington County, Pennsylvania. 

It is my privilege to bring greetings to the church 
of Claysville on her diamond birthday from a congre- 
gation which has special reasons for taking a deep in- 
terest in these exercises. East Buffalo and Claysville 
churches occupy contiguous territory. They were or- 
ganized near the same time. They were united in 182 1 
under the pastoral charge of Rev. Thomas Hoge, 
neither of them having had a settled pastor before. Sev- 
eral ruling elders exercised their office in both churches 
at different periods in their lives. In this list are found 
the names of Joseph Donahey, Sr., Archibald Brown- 
lee, and Joseph Donahey, Jr. Many ties have been 
formed in the passing years between the families of 
these churches, that make them sharers in the mem- 
ories we have met to embalm. 

When I first came into this vicinity to enter Wash- 
ington College as a student, the Claysville Church was 
creditably represented in the halls of learning, as she 
has been ever since. The affectionate regard in which 
the pastor, Rev. Alexander McCarrell, was held by the 
students whom he had encouraged to seek a liberal 
education, was known to all associated with the Clays- 

64 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

ville boys. At that time my acquaintance began with 
the historian of to-day, Dr. Birch, an acquaintance 
which soon ripened into a friendship which years have 
only served to strengthen. As his guest in his father's 
house, I spent a Sabbath in Claysville in the summer 
of 1861, and preached for Dr. McCarrell at one of the 
services. From that occasion dates my personal knowl- 
edge of the man whose influence is still felt so widely 
and so beneficently in this church and community. 
My intercourse with him was only occasional, until I 
became a member of the Washington Presbytery. In 
the first year of my labor at Upper Ten Mile, we as- 
sisted each other at communion services. Similar ex- 
changes were made several times after I began my 
ministry at East Buffalo, and to me they were seasons 
of refreshment and delight, the memory of which I 
would not willingly let die. As a guest at the manse, 
when the services in connection with the Lord's Sup- 
per were protracted more than is now customary, it 
was my privilege to get something of an inside view of 
the home life of one of the godliest men I have ever 
known. And gradually was he sustained in his work 
by his excellent wife, whose influence was a power not 
only at home, but throughout the congregation. It 
was not difficult to understand how, from a family 
reared in such an atmosphere of virtue and piety, three 
sons should go forth to preach the Gospel, and the only 
other son become an elder in the church and an active 
worker in every good cause. To this devoted pastor 
and his wife the congregation was a larger family, the 
care of which was upon their hearts in a degree only 
less than the solicitude felt for their own children. The 

65 



History of the 

pastor possessed, in a measure that is quite unusual, 
the confidence of the young people. Their plans in 
life were freely communicated to him in the assured 
expectation of sympathy and helpful advice. More 
than one case has come incidentally to my knowledge 
of young persons from this church who, being brought 
under conviction of sin while attending school or 
college, at once opened correspondence with the 
home pastor as the one to whom they could open their 
hearts with least reserve. At all points he touched 
the lives of those under his ministry. Never have I 
witnessed more sincere and affecting tributes of love 
than were rendered by his people when this good 
man was borne from this sanctuary to his last resting- 
place. 

As a member of Presbytery, Dr. McCarrell was es- 
teemed and loved by his brethren. He was in many 
respects a model Presbyter. He was punctual in his 
attendance upon the meetings, ready for any duty that 
was laid upon him, and free from bitterness toward 
those from whom he differed in opinion. For fifteen 
years he served as stated clerk, longer than any other 
incumbent of the office in the history of the Presbytery. 
The records of these years are a monument of his ac- 
curacy and painstaking. 

At the invitation of the session, I presided at the 
meeting of the congregation which elected Rev. James 
L. Leeper as Dr. McCarrell's successor. His ministry 
was characterized by vigor and success, and its termi- 
nation by a call to another field of labor was regretted 
by all his co-presbyters. With the present pastor, my 
interchanges have been frequent, and to him and his 

66 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

people I tender hearty congratulations on this interest- 
ing anniversary. 

May Heaven's richest blessings be upon them in the 
coming years, and upon the work that is to be done in 
this part of the Lord's vineyard. 



67 



History of the 



Address 

By James I. Brownson, D.D., LL.D., 
Pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Washington, Penn. 

The Rev. Dr. James I. Brownson spoke in sub- 
stance as follows : * 

Having declined to deliver one of the formal ad- 
dresses of this most interesting occasion, for reasons 
wholly personal, I come the more gladly, under a modi- 
fied invitation, to unite my warm congratulations with 
those of the brethren who have preceded me. If I may 
not rival their eloquent utterances, I can promise not 
to be behind them in fervent sincerity. With each of 
them I can heartily say: " Blessed is the church and 
happy must be its officers and members who can re- 
count the mercies of a covenant-keeping God which 
have crowned the fidelity of nearly three generations of 
Christian believers." 

I am not a stranger to the history which has been 
passing so richly in review before us to-day. I knew 
the founder of this church, Mr. Hoge, as a college 
boy gets to know a venerable leader in society. I was 
a fellow-student with Mr. Gordon, who for a time sup- 
plied the pulpit here. The Rev. Peter Hassinger and 
myself for several years occupied contiguous pastor- 

* Because of the lack of time this address was delivered 
only in part. 

68 



Claysville Presbyterian Church 

ates in Westmoreland County, after his service in this 
field. And I sat at the feet of Dr. McConaughey, my 
revered college president, for nearly four years. Of 
course, therefore I can add my testimony to their char- 
acters, and to what I know must have been their 
excellent work in the early upbuilding of this church. 
The fruits of their evangelical labor still abide and will 
ever, though they sleep. Besides the immediate good 
accomplished by each in his own time and way, they 
were joint contributors to the subsequent stability and 
growth of the memorable pastorate of the late Dr. 
Alexander McCarrell, so admirably portrayed by the 
historian of to-day and other speakers. 

At my entrance as a co-presbyter and pastor in 1849, 
I found this faithful servant of the Lord in the middle 
of his service as stated supply, which ripened into the 
responsibilities of a pastor in 1852, and as such he con- 
tinued under manifest blessing from Heaven until 
death took him to his reward in the spring of 1881. 
It was his habitual delight to " feed the flock of God, 
over which the Holy Ghost had made him overseer." 
It was his holy passion to " preach the Gospel both 
publicly and from house to house." The material of 
his official and private ministration was just that pro- 
vided in the divine Word for souls made hungry and 
thirsty for the bread and water of eternal life by the 
Holy Spirit. His centre of Sabbath proclamation was 
the cross of Christ, and through the week, whether 
upon the street or in the homes of his people, as op- 
portunity offered, this great theme inspired his tongue 
and was radiant from his face. With the fullest sym- 
pathy of a godly wife, his was a model Christian home, 

69 



History of the Claysville Presbyterian Church 

to which troubled souls resorted for spiritual counsel, 
and from the altars of which his own children went 
forth in like spirit to be living epistles of the same 
grace. Written upon many human hearts, as well as 
in the Book of God, are the indelible records of that 
personal, family, and pastoral consecration. The wit- 
nesses thereof shall never die. 

But, after all, death does remove even the saints of 
God from mortal sight. " The fathers, where are they? 
And the prophets, do they live forever? " Where now 
are your Hoges and your McCarrells; your Donaheys 
and Brownlees; your McLains and your Craigs, and 
your long line of officers and unofficial members of this 
church; your good men and good women who filled 
these seats in the past generations? Yet the church is 
still, as ever, the living " body of Christ," with its 
" members in particular." And this body, by vital 
union with its head, shares his perpetual life. Newer 
methods await younger hands and fresher blood for 
their execution. Rev. James L. Leeper has carried 
with him to his successful Indiana pastorate the record 
of four years of very active and prosperous labor here, 
and the Rev. Frank Fish, taking up the mantle of the 
long succession in 1886, has, with ability and zeal, 
brought down the history to this completed period of 
three-quarters of a century. Let now the congratu- 
lations of his brethren intermingle with those of his 
people upon his attainment of the Lord's best earthly 
gift to a pastor — a prudent wife! Long may they live 
in joyful union, and large may the company be who 
shall hail them as instruments of their salvation in the 
day of the Lord Jesus! 

70 



The Thomas Hoge Memorial Tablet 



The Thomas Hoge Memorial Tablet 

The diamond anniversary of the Claysville Presby- 
terian Church awakened the deep interest of the ven- 
erable Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, 1728 
Spruce Street, Philadelphia, Penn., a daughter of the 
Rev. Thomas Hoge. The result of that interest ap- 
pears in a bronze tablet, which is described as follows 
by the Claysville Recorder: 

The members of and visitors at the Presbyterian 
Church will take great delight in what is perhaps one 
of the finest tablets in Western Pennsylvania outside 
of the larger cities. It is to the memory of the father 
of the Claysville and other Presbyterian churches, that 
grand old man — Rev. Thomas Hoge. It is placed on 
the wall back of the pulpit, about six feet above the 
rostrum, and facing the audience. The tablet is of 
solid bronze, four feet ten inches wide by two feet four 
inches high, with round corners. Its weight is 375 
pounds. Around the outer edge is a beaded border; 
within is scrollwork about four inches deep. Next 
the inscription is more beaded work, turning off at the 
upper and lower central points and forming an oval 
• frame for the excellent bust portrait of Rev. Hoge. 
It is the work of the artist-sculptor, Joseph Lauber, 
whose fame is not merely national, and whose portrait 

6 73 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

of General Washington adorns the national Capitol. 
To the left of the portrait is the inscription : 



IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE 
REV. THOMAS HOGE, BORN MAY 3, 
1775, IN TYRONE, IRELAND ; DIED 
JANUARY 23, 1846, IN PHILADEL- 
PHIA, PENN'A. FIRST PASTOR AND 
FOUNDER OF THIS AND OTHER 
CHURCHES. 



To the right are these words: 



FOR OTHER FOUNDATION CAN 
NO MAN LAY THAN THAT IS 
LAID WHICH IS JESUS CHRIST.— 
1 COR. 3:11. THIS TABLET IS 
ERECTED BY HIS DAUGHTER, 
ESTHER HOLMES HOGE PATTER- 
SON. 



The formal unveiling of the tablet took place on 
Thursday, October 8, 1896, and is the subject of an 
article in The Presbyterian Banner, October 14, 1896, 
from which is taken the following extract: 



HONOR TO A FIRST PASTOR 

The town of Claysville, Washington County, Penn., 
is located in the midst of a fertile agricultural region, 

74 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

and was a place of considerable note in the palmy days 
of the " National Pike," along which wagons and 
stage-coaches moved in almost unbroken procession, 
and its inhabitants and also those of the neighborhood 
have been distinguished for general intelligence and 
sturdy Presbyterianism. But it is not too much to 
say that the special distinction of Clavsville clusters in 
and around its Presbyterian church, of which the Rev 
Thomas Hoge was the founder, and from which so 
many ministers of the Gospel have gone forth 

To the people of that church last Thursday was a 
delightful occasion. On that day a tablet to the mem- 
ory of its first pastor, Rev. Thomas Hoge, donated by 
his daughter, Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, of 
Philadelphia, was unveiled in the presence of a lar-e 
assembly, consisting mostly of the grandchildren and 
great-grandchildren of those to whom Mr Hoge had 
ministered. The tablet, which is an exquisite work of 
art, by Tiffany & Co., of New York, was presented to 
the church, on behalf of Mrs. Patterson, by J. T Noble 
Esq., and was received, on the part of the congrega- 
tion, by the pastor, Rev. Frank Fish. Rev. Henry 
Woods, D.D., of Washington and Jefferson College 
read a sketch of the church of Buffalo, of which he is 
pastor, also founded by Mr. Hoge. Rev. G. W F 

u- ?•?" LL - D " ° f New York ' sketch ed the times 
m which Mr. Hoge lived and labored, his character 
and the results of his work. Among those present 
were the following descendants of Mr. Hoge- Robert 
Patterson (a son of the donor), wife and son, of Pitts- 
burgh, and Miss Hazeltine, a granddaughter of Mrs 
-ratterson. 

75 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 



Remarks 

Made by J. T. Noble, of Claysville, Penn., October 8, 1896, 
in Presenting Tablet of her Father by Mrs. Esther 
Holmes Hoge Patterson to the Claysville Presby- 
terian Church. 

This church has just completed seventy-five years of 
history, and is just entering upon the last quarter, 
which, when completed, will make up the century of 
history. In reviewing the seventy-five years already 
completed we see much that is gratifying as well as 
much that is full of sadness, such sadness as neces- 
sarily comes to every church and every community. 
There has been much that has required hardships 
and self-denials in connection with this church, but, 
after all, its work has been crowned with such suc- 
cess as to make the hardships and self-denials on 
the part of so many, matters of much gratification and 
pleasure. The work of this church has been full of 
successes, and it has proven itself in a multitude of 
respects the equal of any church in the Presbytery of 
Washington, and I think I may say the equal of any 
church of like character in Western Pennsylvania. Its 
success has been so great as to engage the interest and 
admiration of people in many parts of the country. In 
one respect I may say this church stands out very 
prominently, and I think I may justly say as promi- 

76 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

nently perhaps as any church in the Washington Pres- 
bytery — for the number of young men who have be- 
come prominent in professions, as well as for the large 
number of useful citizens it has furnished to so many 
different communities. 

To no one is this church so much indebted for its 
success and usefulness, and this community as well for 
its rapid advancement and development, as it is to the 
early efforts and privations of the Rev. Thomas Hoge. 
Mr. Hoge bore much the same relation to this com- 
munity and this region of country as did the Rev. 
John McMillan and the Rev. Thaddeus Dodd to the 
regions of country east and south of us. A man of 
sturdy Scotch-Irish ancestry, well educated at the Uni- 
versity of Edinburgh; possessing more means than was 
usually found among ministers of that day; having a 
strong and vigorous constitution, but with no desire 
to be a preacher in that popular sense which his op- 
portunities, his education, and his general surroundings 
would have naturally afforded to him — but his whole 
ambition and desire seemed to be simply to establish 
Christianity permanently in this section of country 
which was then upon the frontier. He was a man of 
great ability. His ability was oftentimes recognized 
by the frequency with which he was elected Moderator 
of ttie Presbytery, and the many years that he served as 
its Stated Clerk; and then, again, by being chosen as 
Moderator of the Synod. No minister of his time was 
more highly regarded by his co-presbyters and co- 
workers than was Mr. Hoge; and, had he so desired, 
his ability and the high order of his attainments, the 
high esteem in which he was held, on several occasions 

77 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

would have placed within his reach some of the most 
desirable pulpits in the country; but he preferred to 
labor in the way of extending and establishing Chris- 
tianity by building churches in this new and unde- 
veloped country, a work for which he was especially 
fitted and for which he seemed to be especially set 
apart. The hardships which he endured in coming on 
horseback each and every Sabbath morning for a 
period of fifteen years to preach to this congregation; 
the hardships which he endured visiting the widely 
scattered families in times of sickness and death; giv- 
ing at least one-third of the money himself necessary 
to erect this building, which has been occupied by 
this congregation for the last sixty-five years — so fully 
demonstrates his singleness of purpose, and his devo- 
tion to that single object — to found Christianity in this 
region of country for the generations that were to 
come after. He was largely instrumental in having 
this church erected at a time when the early settlers 
were practically without money and were struggling 
to clear these farms and establish homes for themselves 
and families. Mr. Hoge was also valuable to the peo- 
ple of this section at that time in many directions, pro- 
curing for them assistance in the way of money, and 
also furnishing them valuable information and advice 
as to how to clear their farms and build themselves 
homes, he being a man who was deeply interested in 
agriculture and familiar with the wool-growing indus- 
try, a nucleus to the thrift and prosperity which this 
industry afterwards brought to all our people. 

From 1835 to 1846 this church was supplied by a 
number of pastors who, on account of a variety of 

73 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

reasons, encountered many difficulties in endeavoring 
to maintain this church organization, and not until the 
year 1846, when the Rev. Alexander McCarrell became 
pastor, were the splendid foundations that were laid by 
Mr. Hoge builded upon successfully. Mr. McCarrell 
possessed such qualities as enabled him to successfully 
supplement the work which had been begun by Mr. 
Hoge. He continued the pastor of this church for a 
period of thirty-six years. Under his ministry the 
lines put out by Mr. Hoge were extended in many 
directions, and through his earnest labors this church 
grew continuously. He was not a man who depended 
so much upon the eloquence of preaching in the 
achievement of his success, but by sympathy and the 
gentleness of his nature, and the wonderful regularity 
with which he performed all his duties, he most suc- 
cessfully extended the boundaries of this church and 
accomplished a remarkable work, so that when he laid 
down his life in the year 1881, he left this church a 
legacy to his successor, a stronghold which will stand 
forever as a monument especially to the memory of 
the Rev. Thomas Hoge and himself. 

Mrs. Patterson, a daughter of the Rev. Thomas 
Hoge, living at 1728 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, is the 
only surviving member of the Rev. Thomas Hoge's 
family, she having attained the ripe old age of eighty- 
six. She is a most interesting and remarkable woman; 
remarkably active in body, and still taking the keen- 
est interest in all passing events. Mrs. Patterson has 
more than an ordinary interest in this church to-day 
because of her father's connection with it, he being 
its founder and first pastor; and she herself feels that 

79 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

to some extent she assisted her father in rocking it in 
the cradle of its beginning, because it was her custom 
in her early life to visit this church and the people of 
this section with her father, being acquainted with 
many of the old families whose names are recorded on 
the first rolls of this church, a number of which she 
has recalled to me in conversations during the last 
year. Mrs. Patterson feels a just pride in the history 
and the work of this church. When we come to re- 
view the seventy-five years of history of this church it 
is certainly a history that is remarkable, and affords 
to no one more, perhaps not so much, gratification 
and pleasure than to Mrs. Patterson. Her father was 
to this country a benefactor, whose memory the mem- 
bers of this congregation and the people of this region 
will ever cherish and hold in lasting regard. 

Mrs. Patterson has desired me to convey her kind- 
liest greetings to this congregation to-day, and to as- 
sure you that in the closing days of her life she retains 
the deepest interest, in fact an interest that she never 
felt before, in the welfare of the people here and the 
prosperity of this church. She desires me to say that 
it would have given her the greatest of pleasure to 
visit these scenes of her early days had it been possible 
that her surroundings would have permitted such a 
visit. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure 
than to have been present at these interesting exer- 
cises which are in honor of her estimable father. She 
desires me to formally present to you this beautiful 
tablet, accompanied with her best wishes for the wel- 
fare and for the continued growth of this church, and 
hopes that it may ever serve as a reminder of the long 

80 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

years of the labor of love which her father so highly- 
enjoyed and so earnestly prosecuted in this new coun- 
try in his early manhood; a love which he so fittingly 
and so feelingly emphasized by preaching his farewell 
sermon to the people here in whom he had such an 
abiding interest, from the text, " And finally, Brethren, 
I say farewell." 



81 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 



Reception of the Tablet 

By Rev. Frank Fish, 

Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Claysville, Penn. 

The Committee on Arrangements has given me the 
honor, which I gratefully acknowledge, of being the 
Claysville Presbyterian congregation's representative 
in formally receiving this beautiful, artistic, and costly 
tablet — or, at least, the custodianship of it — a solid 
work of bronze, 4 feet 10 inches long by 2 feet 4 inches 
high, weighing 375 pounds, requiring weeks for its 
making; the work of the first artists in the land; a lov- 
ing daughter's tribute to the memory of the founder 
of our church. 

Allow me to say through you, Mr. Noble, the 
deputed representative of Mrs. Patterson in the pres- 
entation of this memorial of her revered father, that 
we heartily thank her for intrusting us with such a gift, 
and promise that we will always give it the care that 
its value and importance demand. 

We thank her for the honor she has put upon us, 
the favor she has done us, the lesson she has taught us, 
and the blessing she has given us. 

We thank her for the honor she has put upon us. 
To be the recipients, or even the custodians, of a gift 
so costly — such a work of art, so lasting in value and 
condition; such an ornament to the building, both this 

82 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

and any succeeding building-, however handsome — is 
no slight honor. We appreciate it. 

We thank her for the favor she has done us. The 
Rev. Thomas Hoge, in starting this church, opened 
up a spring of living waters, which have flowed on in 
increasing volume under his own and succeeding min- 
istries; a stream of Gospel privileges, church ordi- 
nances, Sabbath observance, Bible study, moral and 
religious influences, and other blessings which have 
purified and ennobled our community, our homes, our 
friends, our souls, our lives, and our eternal future. 
In starting this church, Mr. Hoge planted a tree of 
life, a Gospel tree, whose shade has protected multi- 
tudes from the scorching heat of sin and sorrow, whose 
leaves have been healing to many a sin-sick soul, and 
whose fruit has been the food and delight of saved 
spirits, many of whom are now in glory. For starting 
this stream of spiritual blessings, for planting this tree 
of life, we are the debtors of Rev. Thomas Hoge. Yea, 
for this building, now sixty-six years old, itself a monu- 
ment to his labors, precious to many from its sweet 
associations and memories of loved ones now in 
Heaven; of souls borne into the kingdom of Christ; 
of hearts cheered, comforted, and inspired, we are the 
grateful debtors of Mr. Hoge. As he is thus a man 
whom in gratitude we delight to honor, it is a favor to 
us when honor is done his memory; when publicity 
and permanence are given to his ministry; when this 
costly tablet is erected as his memorial to be observed, 
studied, and reflected on Sabbath after Sabbath, and to 
keep his name and work fresh and bright for perhaps 
hundreds of years. Whoso honors our benefactor 

83 



' The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

does us a favor. For this favor his daughter has done 
us, we thank her. 

We thank her for the lesson she has taught us. What 
a graceful act is this honor done a father! Observers 
of the times tell us that the young of these days need 
badly to learn the duty of the fifth commandment. 
Flippant speech, heedless disregard, slighting treat- 
ment, indifferent feelings towards parents, are too 
common. What an object lesson of filial respect is 
this costly tablet! A picture right before our eyes of 
filial love, pouring out treasure on the honored parent. 
Were Thomas Hoge to enter that door to-day which 
he used to enter, and behold this tablet to his mem- 
ory, would not his heart be moved, his lips tremble, 
and his eyes fill with tears at this exhibition of a daugh- 
ter's love and respect? With this tablet before the 
eyes of the children and youth of this congregation, 
saying in trumpet tones, " Honor thy father and thy 
mother, that thy days may be long upon the land 
which the Lord thy God giveth thee," our young peo- 
ple will be constantly encouraged and stimulated to 
give honor, obedience, and reverence to their parents, 
even though at heavy expense of comfort and pleas- 
ure. As parents, teachers, and friends of the young, 
interested in their welfare and well-doing, we feel 
grateful for this object lesson of honoring parents. 

Churches and tablets, stone and bronze, will all 
crumble into dust, but an act of love, a deed of duty 
like this, will never perish. Engraved on God's im- 
perishable tablet, the record of this beautiful tribute 
to a father's memory and work, with all other deeds 
of love and righteousness, wil shine out and be read 

8 4 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

with admiration by redeemed throngs when this tab- 
let and church and world will be no more. 

We thank her for the standard she has set our pulpit 
and church. Foundation-layers determine the shape 
and character of the building. The founders of our 
country — the Pilgrims, the Huguenots, the Quakers, 
the Scotch-Irish — determined the Christian, Protestant 
character of the United States. So the founder of a 
church determines the character of that church. As 
this admirably appropriate text on the tablet reminds 
us, Father Hoge founded this church on Jesus Christ, 
the only foundation for any Christian church, or creed, 
or character, the foundation already laid by God Him- 
self, the Giver of Christ. On Jesus Christ — the Per- 
son Jesus Christ, the Gospel of Christ, the Bible of 
Christ, as indorsed or authorized by Him, where alone 
Jesus Christ is found — were this church of Claysville 
and that of East Buffalo founded. 

So this tablet, with its record of foundation-laying, 
with its scriptural description of the foundation laid, 
with the noble face of the human founder visibly set 
forth, and his eye now watching the course of this 
church from above the pulpit where he himself 
preached the old, old Gospel truths, is now a public 
plan — the architect's plan — to direct all succeeding 
builders how to build up the church and character of 
this people, an anchor to hold this pulpit and church 
to the old moorings, to Christ and the Bible. In the 
shadow of this tablet this pulpit and church cannot, 
dare not, drift away into a new theology, another Gos- 
pel, a mutilated Bible, a different Saviour. This face 
and record of him who laid the foundation true to his 

85 



rih- Hogi hitmorial Tablet 

Master .mil commission would publicly rebuke .uui 
denounce any such depai ture. 

Will you then, Mr. Noble, extend to Mrs. Patterson 
our gratitude and ou] good wishes? Our desire, hope, 
and prayei are thai in these last days oi her long life 
she in.i\ more than evei enjoy the calming peace and 
the gladdening hope and all the precious promises her 
revered father held out here to the people of his day. 

\s she enters and passes through the valley of the 
shadow ot death, may she find the l .ord Jesus w ith her. 
lu-r Shepherd; His rod and staff comforting her. ac- 
cording as her father taught the people here. When 
the silver cord is loosed and the golden howl is broken, 

when the lleshlv taheruaolc is dissolved. and, true to her 
father's ( rOSpel, her soul is taken up to 1 leaven to he at 
home with Christ, then may she receive the welcome, 
the crown, the home, the glory, her lather preached 
here, ami there ma\ she meet her sainted father, and 
he forever with him. in the rest, the sons;', the service 
of the heavenly lite; and with him and all her loved 
ones enter into all the blessings of the eternal home 

he pictured out to the people here. We deeply regret 

her inability to he present with us to dav. and our 
inability to look upon her face, hut if never in this lite, 
yet in the city of God we hope, by the grace of our 
I oul. to he permitted to see her face to face and en- 
io\ her and her sainted father, to the influence of whose 

labors we are largely indebted for our blessed hopes. 

May the 1 leaven of Thomas Mode's preaching and 
>yment he the home of us all! 






7 he Iloge Memorial Tablet 



Address 

I5y George W. F. BlRCH, D.D., LL.D. 

We arc here to-day because the history of the 
Christian church in this community and the reverent 
love of a child and grandchildren for an honored an- 
tor testify, through tin- tablet which has just been 
unveil':'!, that the good which Thomas Hoge did dur- 
ing the seventy and more years of mortality was not 
interred with his hones when he was laid in the house 
appointed for all living. And while i appreciate the 
• iiMiifi- ance of the poet's appeal : 

"Can storied urn or animated bust, 

to its i arth n i all the fleeting dust ? " 

yet 1 must say that the face which stands out from this 
tablel recalls that command of the Emperor Con- 
Btantine l>y which the cities of Greece and Asia were 
despoiled of tlnir monuments to arid to the attractions 
of Constantinople. 'I << this Edward Gibbon refers in 
his "History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
Empire" when he writes, "The trophies of memora- 
ble wars, the objects of religious veneration, the most 
finished statues of the gods and heroes of the sages 
and poets of ancient, times, contributed to the splendid 
triumph of Constantinople/' and gave occasion to the 
remark of the historian Cedrenus, who observes with 
some enthusiasm " that nothing- seemed wanting ex- 

87 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

cept the souls of the illustrious men whom those ad- 
mirable monuments were intended to represent." 

So on this day, when this old meeting-house makes 
its mark as the " Westminster Abbey " of Claysville, 
the fact that the bas-relief which centres our interest 
on this occasion, is an exact copy of a wax portrait 
which reproduced its living subject eighty-five years 
ago, and that in it persons now living recognize the 
founder and the first pastor of the Claysville Presby- 
terian Church — this fact, I insist, is enough to make 
our enthusiasm burst forth in the word: Nothing 
seems wanting here but the soul of the good and faith- 
ful man whom this admirable work of art is intended 
to represent. " Nothing seems wanting," did I say? 
Indeed, it does only seem so. For the Holy Ghost has 
given us the story of the proto-martyr Abel in order 
that we may know that in the faith which has had, does 
have, and will have its outcome in the history of this 
church, we have the soul, beaming from the eye and 
swelling forth from the lip, of this likeness of Thomas 
Hoge. For by this church he, being dead, yet speak- 
eth. The value of the historical pictures hanging in 
the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington which were 
executed by John Trumbull consists in the fact that 
the interest in the figures presented in those paintings 
finds its reason in the consideration that for the most 
part they are the life-likeness which the painter trans- 
ferred to the canvas. A fellow-artist paid a high com- 
pliment to Gilbert Stuart when he remarked, " How 
fortunate it was that a painter existed in the time of 
Washington who could hand him down looking like 
a gentleman ! " One of the lights of English literature 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

tells us that " portrait painting is painting from recol- 
lection, and from a conception of character, with the 
object before us to assist the memory and understand- 
ing." 

So the artist who framed the wax into the life-like- 
ness which reappears in this bronze, deserves our 
thanks for handing down the one whom we honor to- 
day, looking like a gentleman, and has conveyed to us 
a character study which it will be the work of this 
occasion to delineate. This delineation, rightly per- 
formed, will be a demonstration of the Scripture pro- 
verb: "The memory of the just is blessed," as it will 
be the revelation of a godly parent, a faithful minister, 
a public benefactor, an individual contribution which 
the Bible has immortalized in the eleventh chapter of 
the Epistle to the Hebrews. But if that portrait could 
speak, the godly, faithful, benevolent man would tell 
us that just as faith-filled Abraham sometimes dis- 
trusted God; as patient Moses was impatient; as brave 
Elijah fled from Jezebel; as the man after God's own 
heart, David, stained his career with an act of gigantic 
iniquity; as Time's recording angel has linked forever 
Peter's noble confession with Peter's base denial, so he 
fought his battle with the imperfections of human 
nature, and entered Heaven, not on account of in- 
herent righteousness, but on account of imputed 
righteousness, as he preached and prayed and lived the 
truth set forth in the Thirty-second Psalm: 

" Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin 
is covered. 

" Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not 
iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile." 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

And like David in his climb toward Heaven, he made 
descents, but every restoration was a higher ascent. 

This delineation will also be a demonstration of the 
proposition that the undercurrent of the progress of 
Christianity in general, and of this church in particular, 
in this community, is the ministry of Air. Hoge. We 
are told that " it was long a subject of wonder how 
the water is always flowing into the Alediterranean Sea, 
whilst there is apparently no outlet, till it was explained 
by ascertaining its undercurrents. In 1683 such a 
strong undercurrent was discovered, which goes out by 
the Straits of Gibraltar. A vessel full of stones was 
lowered, and the current was found to be so strong 
that it dragged the boat along, despite the upper cur- 
rent." 

So when human life commenced to congregate in 
this town, Mr. Hoge turned into its channel the 
streams of that river which makes glad the city of our 
God. Once and again the moral current of this church 
and community has been in the wrong direction, but 
because the force of the undercurrent of the olden 
time has not been, to use the word of another, " tran- 
sient like Cherith, nor muddy like the Nile, nor furi- 
ous like Kishon, nor treacherous like Job's deceit- 
ful brooks, nor ' naught ' like those of Jericho," this 
church and community have, in the main, shown the 
gladness of the city of our God, as the streams of this 
undercurrent have appeared in Ralph Erskine's classi- 
fication : " the perfections of God, the fullness of Christ, 
the operations of the Spirit running in the channel of 
the covenants of promise." 

The sight of this memorial will awaken and make 
90 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

permanent a new interest in the history of this church 
and congregation. During the preparation of this 
paper an issue of the New York Observer came to 
hand, and I found in it an item which reads as follows: 

" Can the common people be made to take an interest in 
history ? It appears that they can be, if only the right means 
are employed for that purpose. A much needed step, for 
example, has lately been taken in the direction of making 
Westminster Hall, in London, more evidently a symbol of his- 
tory to the crowds who every week visit it. A tablet has lately 
been put up in the wall close to the stairs which descend 
into the crypt, thus marking the position of an archway which 
for upward of one hundred and thirty years was the principal 
means of access to the old House of Commons. Another 
inscription locates the spot where the Earl of Stafford stood 
during his impeachment before the House of Lords. It is said 
that the Saturday crowds who visit Westminster invariably 
throng around a tablet, that has been in position some time, 
which shows the place where Charles I. stood his trial. It is 
clear that the run of people appreciate history when they know 
where the history is." 

This quotation is the voice of our own experience. 
Every visitor to Washington City stops to think when 
he notices on the floor of the Pennsylvania Depot the 
brass star that marks the spot where President Garfield 
fell. As you ride over the Pennsylvania Railroad from 
Monmouth Junction to Freehold, N. J., as you ap- 
proach the latter place you pass a signboard with the 
inscription, "Moll Pitcher's Well," recalling the woman 
heroine of the bloody battle of Monmouth, which was 
no insignificant factor of the success of the American 
Revolution. The first time I was in Hartford, Conn., 
I hunted for the site of the Charter Oak, and it was a 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

1 1 satisfaction to read the story carved on the mon- 
ument that marked it. 

So this memorial will be a memory of childhood; a 

permamenl reminder of the wilderness which saw the 

[innings of fliis tabernacle of Divine worship; an 

index finger which will help the antiquarian in his 

studio <>f the past. 

The proper commencement of a sketch of Thomas 
Hoge is a -lance at the heraldic story of his name. 
From Burke's "Landed Gentry of Great Britain and 
Ireland " and other authorities the statement is drawn 
which runs as follows: "It is the well-known Nor- 
wegian name of many a fierce viking, a word which 
recalls the private bands of Northmen who plundered 
the coast of Europe in the eighth and ninth centuries, 
and who are no inconspicuous figures in the traditional 
and probably mythological history of America. The 
ancienl Scandinavia (the modern Norway and Sweden) 
was the home of those Gothic tribes who brought with 
them from the cradle of humanity the religion and 
language of the Aryan race. Aryan is a name prob- 
ably meaning ' noble,' given to themselves by the 
ancestors of the leading nations of Europe and India. 
As yet they are a small people of Central Asia, feed- 
ing their flocks near the source of the Oxus. They 
were the direct descendants of Japheth. 

"The name may be found in various nationalities, 
as follows: Germany, Iloche; France, Hugo and 
Hogue; Norway, Hacon and Hang; Holland, Haig 
and Hague; Scotland, Hogg, Hoge, and Hog; Den- 
mark, Hooch; Saxon, High and Haah. In England 
the name is generally written Hogg, but it occurs in 

92 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

old family writings and papers as Hoogg, Hogge, 
Hodge, and Hoddge. 

" The coat of arms of the Hoge family of Scotland 
presents — argent, a cross crosslet; sable, between three 
bears' heads; erased azure; crest, an oak tree — mean- 
ing, I suppose, that the members of the family who 
made that coat of arms their sign manual were ready 
to lay down their lives to the death in behalf of the 
cause which they defended. 

" So that the ancient family of Hoge, whether we 
spell the name Hogg or Hog or Hoge, was of no vul- 
gar origin, as its members have claimed their descent 
from one Haug of Norway, a gallant robber and de- 
stroyer in his day, who doubtless praised Odin and 
Thor by drinking from a cup made from the skull of 
a victim. 

" The great antiquity of the surname of Hog in Scot- 
land will appear, as we learn that its use is coeval with 
the retirement of Cospatrick, Earl of Northumberland 
about the time of the Norman Conquest. The sur- 
name became hereditary in the reign of Malcolm Can- 
more, and was first assumed by the proprietors of the 
land of Hogstown, in the shire of Angus. In the 
bond of submission in 1296 (six hundred years ago) 
Alexander Hog is styled Alexander De Hogstown. 
We^can at least conceive something of the nature of the 
environment of Alexander De Hogstown when we 
remember that the leading figure in the events which 
preceded and resulted in the accession of Malcolm Can- 
more to the throne was the Macbeth in whose case 
the truth of history has been sacrificed to the fancy 
with which William Shakespeare filled its framework. 

93 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

So that the man who seems to have been the success- 
ful general who led in the revolution which overthrew 
Duncan and confirmed his pretensions to the throne — 
the man who during eighteen years sustained his 
sovereignty, showed liberality to the church, and fell 
at last, for aught we know, like a hero — this man 
comes down to us linked with the madness of Lady 
Macbeth, the murder of Duncan, the ghost of Banquo, 
the revenge of Macduff, as facts attending his career 
were transformed by Shakespeare to point the moral 
he had in view. 

" The heraldic story tells us that one of the Hogs of 
Scotland landed in Ireland in 1656. This member of 
the Hog family doubtless found Ireland prepared for 
his coming by the policy of Oliver Cromwell. The 
iron rule of that man of renown had, according to 
Macaulay, ' waged war resembling that which Israel 
waged on the Canaanites; smote the idolaters with the 
edge of the sword, so that great cities were left without 
inhabitants; drove many thousands to the Continent; 
shipped off many thousands to the West Indies, and 
supplied the void thus made by pouring in numerous 
colonists of Saxon blood and of Calvinistic faith.' " 

So when Thomas Hoge was born, May 3, 1775, the 
family which still exists in England, Ireland, Spain, and 
the United States had been in Ireland one hundred and 
nineteen years. At his birth and throughout his 
childhood and young manhood Ireland was in a state 
of ferment, political and religious. On the 19th of 
April preceding the date of his birth (an interval of 
fourteen days), the American Colonists had unfurled 
the flag of freedom as a thing to die for at the battle of 

94 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

Lexington. It was as a boy who had passed his eighth 
year that he heard of the treaty of peace which con- 
firmed Great Britain's acknowledgment of the thirteen 
colonies as free and independent States. A boy would 
not be indifferent to the circumstances set forth by 
John Mitchel in his " History of Ireland," that " All 
eyes in Ireland were turned to this impending strug- 
gle, and the obvious community of interest which 
Ireland had with those transatlantic colonies, made 
their case the theme of conversation in private circles 
as well as of debates in Parliament. The attention of 
the country was still more strongly aroused when the 
Continental Congress, amongst other forcible ad- 
dresses issued at this time (1774), directed one to the 
' People of Ireland.' That prince among orators, that 
distinguished Henry Grattan, declared that the ' lib- 
erties of America were inseparable from the liberties 
of Ireland; that the rights of America were the only 
hope of Ireland and the only refuge of the liberties 
of mankind.' " 

From the time that Mr. Hoge drew his first breath 
until he fled from his native land during the Rebellion 
of 1798, the noise of conflict filled his ears. Mr. Hoge 
grew up in a country which a statesman declared to be 
unfit to govern itself on account of its " corrupt aris- 
tocracy," " ferocious commonalty," " distracted gov- 
ernment," and " divided people." An integral part of 
Mr. Hoge's life in Ireland is related in Green's " His- 
tory of the English People," as follows: " An associa- 
tion of ' United Irishmen,' begun among the Protes- 
tants of Ulster with a view of obtaining Parliamentary 
reform, drifted into a correspondence with France 

95 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

and projects of insurrection. The Catholic peasantry, 
brooding over their misery and their wrongs, were 
equally stirred by the news from France, and their 
discontent broke out in the outrages of ' Defenders ' 
and ' Peep-o'-day Boys,' who held the country in 
terror. For a while, however, the Protestant land- 
owners banded together in ' Orange Societies,' and 
held the country down by sheer terror and blood- 
shed. 

" At last the smouldering discontent and disaffection 
burst into flame. Ireland was, in fact, driven into 
rebellion by the lawless cruelty of the Orange yeo- 
manry and the English troops. 

" In 1796 and 1797 soldiers and yeomanry marched 
over the country, torturing and scourging the ' crop- 
pies,' as the Irish insurgents were called, in derision 
from their short-cut hair. Their outrages were sanc- 
tioned by a Bill of Indemnity, passed by the Irish 
Parliament, and protected for the future by an Insur- 
rection Act, and a suspension of the habeas corpus. 
Meanwhile, the ' United Irishmen ' prepared for an 
insurrection which was delayed by the failure of the 
French expeditions, on which they had counted for 
support, and, above all, by the victory of Camperdown. 
Atrocities were answered by atrocities, when the revolt 
at last broke out in 1798. Loyal Protestants were 
lashed and tortured in their turn, and every soldier 
taken was butchered without mercy. 

" The rebels, however, no sooner mustered fifteen 
thousand men strong, in a camp on Vinegar Hill, near 
Enniscorthy, than the camp was stormed by the Eng- 
lish troops, and the revolt utterly suppressed." 

96 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

I have not been able to learn the precise part which 
Mr. Hoge took in the Rebellion of 1798. 

As Dungannon, a town in his native county Tyrone, 
was the scene of the famous Convention of the Vol- 
unteers in 1782, the probability is that the youth of 
seventeen was a champion of the constitutional auton- 
omy of Ireland. 

The significant factor in the career of Thomas Hoge 
is his attendance at the University of Edinburgh, 
which must have commenced, if it were not completed, 
during the second decade of his life. As to the advan- 
tages which he enjoyed at that notable seat of learning, 
it is enough to say that the faculty numbered among 
its members some of the greatest scholars of the 
age. 

Dugald Stewart was in the chair of moral philoso- 
phy, who, in Lord Cockburn's estimate, " was one of 
the greatest of didactic orators, recalled the finest of the 
old eloquent sages," and warranted the assertion that 
" no intelligent pupil of his ever ceased to respect 
philosophy, or was ever false to his principles, without 
feeling the crime aggravated by the recollection of the 
morality that Stewart had taught him." As the course 
of moral philosophy, besides ethics proper, included 
lectures on political philosophy, the thought is sug- 
gested that Thomas Hoge's connection with the Irish 
Rebellion may have been his application of Stewart's 
lectures on the theory of government. 

The head of the Edinburgh faculty during Thomas 
Hoge's student life was the distinguished Principal 
Robertson, whose rank in philosophy and literature 
will be understood as I name the historic triumvirate 

97 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

of the eighteenth century — Hume, Robertson, and 
Gibbon. 

As I name Sir Walter Scott, who made forgotten 
history sparkle with the electric fire of his imagination; 
Francis Jeffrey, who brought to the Edinburgh Re- 
view the work of at once " the best critic and the best 
reviewer of the age"; Lord Cockburn, whose pleadings 
as a lawyer were remarkable for clearness, pathos, and 
simplicity; Francis Horner, the great political econo- 
mist; Sydney Smith, who was too human, too witty, 
too tactless, too buoyant, too logical, and too inde- 
pendent to reach the preferments on earth which lay 
within the scope of his capabilities; Henry Brougham, 
who, as he drove off one morning from the presence 
of Samuel Rogers, the poet, occasioned the remark of 
the latter, " There go Solon, Lycurgus, Demosthenes, 
Archimedes, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Chesterfield, and 
a great many more in one post-chaise " ; Thomas 
Brown, afterwards so remarkable for his originality 
and subtlety in the domain of psychology; James 
Mill, the historian, political and mental philosopher, 
who will never be forgotten as the father of John Stuart 
Mill; Sir James Mackintosh, the catholic-minded man 
of culture; Sir Archibald Alison, the celebrated his- 
torian — as I mention these names you will have some 
idea at least of the college world of Thomas Hoge. 
He must have known something of that " Debating 
Society," founded by Henry Brougham, where embryo 
legislators, judges, and preachers tried their early 
powers. 

Then, too, think of the men who appealed to Thomas 
Hoge's interest as an Irishman. There was Henry 

98 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

Grattan, who, Protestant though he was, is described 
by a Roman Catholic historian as " a man of pure 
spirit and noble genius; an accomplished scholar and 
a poet, whose scholarship and poetry gave way to a 
grand, peculiar, and electric oratory, unsurpassed, 
probably unequalled, by the greatest speakers of any 
age or nation — not only a consummate orator, but a 
patriot in the largest and broadest sense." 

There was John Philpot Curran, who reached the 
pinnacle of his fame in his defence of the accused in 
the State trials which took place in connection with the 
spirit of rebellion which caused Mr. Hoge to flee from 
his native land. There was Edmund Burke, to whom 
Lord Brougham accords a station among the most 
extraordinary persons that have ever appeared. And 
old Dr. Johnson said of him, " Burke, sir, is such a man 
that if you met him for the first time in the street, 
where you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you 
and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five min- 
utes, he'd talk to you in such a manner that when 
you parted you would say, ' This is an extraordinary 
man.' ' There was William Pitt, whom Macaulay de- 
clares to be " the first English minister who formed 
great designs for the benefit of Ireland." 

That portion of the world's chronology which is 
measured by Thomas Hoge's life on the other side of 
the water is one of the mile-post epochs in the history 
of mankind. It is filled with the seed events of hu- 
man annals. There are the American Revolution, the 
French Revolution, the wars of Napoleon, the for- 
mation of the Constitution of the United States of 
America, the origination of the Sunday-school, the 

99 



L.of! 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

prison work of John Howard, the construction of 
Sir William Herschel's great telescope, the discovery 
of vaccination. 

So the year 1798 marks the time when the Scotch- 
Irishman, Thomas Hoge, in the twenty-third or 
twenty-fourth year of his age, first touched the shores 
of America, at the port of Philadelphia. The City of 
Brotherly Love was at that time the seat of govern- 
ment and the chief city of the republic. Thomas Hoge 
doubtless observed what McMaster so graphically de- 
scribes, "No other (city) could boast of so many streets, 
so many houses, so many people, so much renown." 
There had been made the discoveries which carried the 
name of Franklin to the remotest spots of the civilized 
world. There had been put forth the Declaration of In- 
dependence. There had long been held the delibera- 
tions of Congress. No other city was so rich, so extrav- 
agant, so fashionable. Seven years before, 1784, (Rich- 
ard Henry) Lee had described the place (Philadelphia) 
to Washington as an attractive scene of amusement 
and debauch. Lovel, another writer, had called it a 
place of crucifying expenses. But the features that 
most impressed travellers from distant lands were the 
fineness of the houses, the goodness of the pavement, 
the filthiness of the carriage-ways, the regular ar- 
rangement of the streets, and the singular custom of 
numbering some and giving to others the names of 
forest trees. When Thomas Hoge struck Chestnut 
Street, long since given up to the demands of com- 
merce, and lined with warehouses and shops, he would 
at once perceive the fashionable walk of the Phila- 
delphians. There, on any fine day when business was 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

over, the bank closed, and the exchange deserted, 
crowds of pleasure-seekers gathered to enjoy the air 
and display their rich clothes. As the gentleman of 
the last century passed him he would notice that he 
wore a three-cornered cocked hat, heavily laced; that 
his hair was done up in a cue, and its natural shade 
concealed by a profusion of powder. His coat was 
light-colored, with diminutive cape, marvellously long 
back, and silver buttons engraved with the letters 
of his name; that his small clothes came scarce to his 
knees; his stockings were striped; his shoes pointed 
and adorned with huge buckles; his vest had flap 
pockets; his cuffs were loaded with lead; that partici- 
pation in the Revolutionary War would make him af- 
fect a military bearing and speak very frequently con- 
cerning campaigns; that when he bowed to the damsels 
that passed him, he took half the sidewalk as he flour- 
ished his cane and scraped his foot. As Thomas 
Hoge saw the lady responding to the salutation as she 
gravely returned it and courtesied almost to the earth, 
that which greeted his eyes would seem strange to us. 
Thomas Hoge's day was the day of gorgeous brocades 
and taffetas, luxuriantly displayed over cumbrous 
hoops which, flattened before and behind, stood out 
for two feet on each side; of tower-built hats, adorned 
with tall feathers; of calash and muskmelon bonnets; 
of high wooden heels, fancifully cut; of gowns without 
fronts; of fine satin petticoats, and of implanted teeth. 
The implantation of teeth was introduced by a French 
physician who, according to report, reaped a small 
fortune from the ladies by the performance of the oper- 
ation. In one of his advertisements, which is yet ex- 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

tant, announcing it to be his business to transplant 
teeth, it is declared that he has, within the six months 
just passed, successfully transplanted one hundred and 
twenty-three, and assures those having front teeth for 
sale that he will give two guineas for every sound one 
brought him. It is to be hoped that if Thomas Hoge 
were invited out to dine he was not embarrassed by a 
specimen of table manners in vogue at that time. A 
French prince who was travelling in our country, in 
one of his letters speaks of what took place when he 
accepted an invitation to dine with the lady of Robert 
Morris. He was repeatedly asked to have his cup 
refilled. He consented. When he had swallowed the 
twelfth cup of tea, his neighbor whispered in his ear, 
and told him when he had enough of the water diet he 
should place his spoon across the cup, else the hostess 
would go on urging him to drink tea until the crack 
of doom. 

Mr. Hoge would also find Philadelphia in the midst 
of a business panic on account of the threatened war 
with France. America was preparing for a conflict 
with her whilom ally, and Washington had been ap- 
pointed Lieutenant-General. The proposed exactions 
of the French Minister Talleyrand, acting in behalf of 
the French Directory, had filled all America with the 
cry, " Millions for defence and not a cent for tribute." 

And he, doubtless, landed in Philadelphia to receive 
the greetings of many whom he had known as friends 
in his native land. Hence he would be introduced into 
the circle of the Presbyterian congregations and would 
meet their ministers, and thus would be brought into 
contact with some of the best preachers and pastors 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

that ever adorned American Presbyterianism — such 
men as Drs. Ashbel Green, James P. Wilson, and 
Samuel Stanhope Smith. 

But his sojourn in Philadelphia was comparatively 
brief. Leaving Philadelphia, he came to Carlisle, 
Penn., doubtless travelling over the road which ran 
from the seat of American civilization into the wilder- 
ness of what was then the far West. As one tells us, 
"its course, after leaving the city, lay through the coun- 
ties of Chester and Lancaster, then sparsely settled, 
now thick with towns and cities, and penetrated with 
innumerable railways, and via Shippensburgh went 
over the Blue Ridge Mountains to the little town of 
Bedford." 

As Cumberland County was largely settled by 
people from the North of Ireland, he must have been 
attracted thither in the hope of renewing the acquain- 
tances of his boyhood in Tyrone. Carlisle was remark- 
able in those early days as the home of culture and 
comfort. Some traveller of that day noted the cir- 
cumstance that it contained no less than three hundred 
stone houses. Our country in its early days received 
many of its most celebrated men in all the professions 
from Carlisle's Dickinson College. As a licentiate of 
the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland, he would naturally 
affiliate with the Presbyters of the town and vicinity. 
There was that pioneer of liberal education in America, 
Dickinson's distinguished President, Dr. Charles Nis- 
bet, and his erudite successor, Dr. Robert Davidson. 
There was Francis Herron, the young pastor at Rocky 
Spring, who was afterwards to do the first works of a 
ministry which has made Presbyterianism what it is 

103 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

in Pittsburgh and the part adjacent thereto. There was 
a young licentiate, but a year younger than himself, 
Matthew Brown, to whom he linked himself in a life- 
long friendship. Neither were Carlisle and its neigh- 
borhood beyond the range of the archery of Cupid, 
and Mr. Hoge met his blessed fate by his marriage to 
Miss Elizabeth City Holmes. The conduct of his 
courtship does not seem to have interfered with his 
superintendence of an academy in Northumberland, 
Penn. So that Mr. Hoge did his part in the great 
work accomplished by the classical school for God and 
country during his career as a preceptor. 

Afterwards we find Mr. Hoge at Greensburgh, 
Penn., where, according to the recollection of his 
daughter, Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, he 
served the church as a ruling elder. His removal from 
Greensburgh to Washington, Penn., was the occasion 
of a call to the same office on the part of the church 
there. 

On April 17, 1876, Mr. Hoge was taken under the 
care of the Presbytery of Ohio on his certificate as a 
licentiate from the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland. 
The same Presbytery ordained him to the full work 
of the Gospel ministry as an evangelist. His appli- 
cation for ordination was the result of the earnest 
advice of such men as Drs. Francis Herron and 
Matthew Brown. Just about this time he was called 
to one of the Presbyterian churches of Pittsburgh. 

The opposition of Mrs. Hoge constrained him to 
decline the invitation. As a member of the Presbytery 
of Ohio, Mr. Hoge acted as stated supply of the 
churches of Upper Ten Mile and East Buffalo. Some- 

104 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

where about this time he was chosen a member of the 
Board of Trust of the Synod of Pittsburgh, for the 
prosecution of missions, and was also elected to suc- 
ceed the Rev. Francis Herron as stated clerk of the 
Synod. 

The name of Thomas Hoge appears as one of the 
original members of the Presbytery of Washington, at 
its organization, October 19, 1819. This Presbytery 
made him its Stated Clerk in 1822 for two years. In 
1823 he was elected Moderator of the Synod of Pitts- 
burgh. In 1827, 1829, 1830, 1831, and 1832 he served 
the same body as a clerk. 

The initial step in the organization of this, the Clays- 
ville Presbyterian Church, was taken when, in 1820, 
Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar invited him 
whom we delight to honor to-day, to preach the Gos- 
pel in this village. He organized this church in Sep- 
tember, 1820, and was its stated supply, in connection 
with East Buffalo, until June 27, 1821, when he was 
installed the pastor of the united churches. 

Mr. Hoge discharged the duties of the Claysville 
pastorate until some time in the year 1826, when, at his 
own request, the relation was dissolved by the Pres- 
bytery of Washington. After an interval of two weeks 
he resumed his labors as stated supply, and continued 
his service until about the middle of the year 1828. In 
1830 the congregation earnestly requested Mr. Hoge 
to return to his former pastorate. He acceded to its 
request and was again installed. During the interval 
he had been engaged in evangelistic work, and had 
organized a church at Mount Nebo, near Washington, 
Penn. During the same interval the Claysville Church 

8 105 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

had been supplied by appointment of Presbytery. The 
people seemed willing to call a Rev. Abner Leonard. 
Mr. Leonard, however, declined the acceptance of a 
call. 

The second pastorate of Mr. Hoge continued until 
1835, when the relation was again dissolved at his own 
request, and he was afterward dismissed to the Pres- 
bytery of Philadelphia. True to his old love for the 
evangelization of the world, he acted as treasurer of the 
Board of Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the 
United States of America from the year 1842 until his 
death in 1846. 

Although everything with Mr. Hoge was subor- 
dinated to his work as a minister of the Gospel, he 
was a thorough man of affairs. Like the men of 
Issacher of the olden time, he had an understanding 
of the times and was the peer of any man among 
the early settlers of this region in public spirit. Such 
men as Josiah Truesdell and George Wilson found 
in him an earnest, sympathizing second to their 
efforts to make Claysville a prosperous town. The 
house in Washington, Penn., which generations have 
known as the Green Tree Corner, was built by Mr. 
Hoge, and was his residence as well as a place of 
business for his sons, Abram Holmes Hoge and 
Thomas Hamilton Hoge. During their day in West- 
ern Pennsylvania they were large buyers of wool, 
and took great interest in sheep and the business of 
wool-growing. 

So that I say to-day what Mrs. Patterson directed 
me to say when we celebrated the organization of the 
church, that Mr. Hoge, her father, was always a 

106 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

preacher and never a merchant. According to his 
means, he aided his sons in order that they might en- 
gage in trade. As far as he was concerned, he knew 
nothing among men save Jesus Christ and Him cru- 
cified. 

In the controversies which agitated the Presbyterian 
Church in his day, Mr. Hoge was an old-school ortho- 
dox, conservative man. The Bible truths as they are 
set forth in the Westminster Confession and Cate- 
chism were certainties to him, and he preached and 
defended them with his characteristic energy and de- 
termination. His cotemporaries regarded him as a 
man of thorough learning, and I have heard the men- 
tion of him as a preacher of power. 

How he loved this church building! The edifice 
was the fruit of his enthusiasm. After pledging one- 
third of its cost, he took a trip to Philadelphia and 
obtained the money. I only wish that the beautiful 
pulpit of Mr. Hoge's day had been left to emphasize 
the exquisite taste of the memorial tablet. 

Seven persons are still living (November 24, 1898) 
who remember to have seen Mr. Hoge. They are / 
John Birch, Anthony A. Mealy, John Finley, Joel V 
Truesdell, Joseph R. McLain, Miss Mary McLain, 
and Mrs. T. C. Noble. They describe him as 
of medium height, stout build, and of pleasing ad- 
dress. 

When he was seventy years of age he had the appear- 
ance of a man of sixty. It was the habit of Mr. Hoge 
to come to Claysville on horseback. Many a Sabbath 
he enjoyed the companionship of his daughter Hettie 
over the road from Washington to Claysville. To-day 

107 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

she must be thinking of those rides as, though absent 
in body, she is present in spirit at this service. 

One of Mr. Hoge's Claysville homes was the hotel 
of Mrs. Calohan, whom the most of us afterwards knew 
as Mrs. John Kelley. A part of the time he made his 
sojourn with the Truesdell family. The sad story of 
the accident which took Mr. Truesdell away in the 
prime of life is one of the indelible incidents of the his- 
tory of Claysville. It is interesting to know that the 
last friend Mr. Truesdell recognized on earth was Mr. 
Hoge. 

As has been already intimated, Air. Hoge at the time 
of his death was residing in Philadelphia. His family 
consisted of four sons and two daughters, viz. : Abram 
Holmes, who died in Chicago several years since; 
Thomas Hamilton, William, and James, who have 
passed away; Esther (Hettie), who became Mrs. 
Joseph Patterson, and now lives at 1728 Spruce Street, 
Philadelphia; and Elizabeth, who was the third wife of 
General Pleasonton, of Philadelphia, and died but 
recently, consecrating a considerable portion of her 
wealth to several of the Boards of the Presbyterian 
Church. She also endowed the Thomas Hoge Ward 
of the Presbyterian Hospital of Philadelphia. 

Abram Holmes Hoge was, for a number of years, 
Collector of Internal Revenue at Chicago. His wife's 
maiden name was Jane C. Blackie. Her father, Cap- 
tain Blackie, commanded the vessel which carried the 
first missionaries to China and India. He was a cousin 
of John Blackie, the celebrated Greek professor of the 
University of Edinburgh. 

Mrs. Abram Holmes Hoge and Mrs. Mary A. Liv- 

10S 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

ermore were the founders of the Sanitary Commission 
which did such efficient service in our Civil War. Mrs. 
Hoge was also one of the founders and long the Pres- 
ident of the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society of 
the Northwest. She was the author of a book entitled 
" Heroes of the Rank and File," which Secretary 
Stanton called " an imperishable monument to the 
memory of the ' Boys in Blue.' " Dr. Delano, of the 
Baptist Church in Evanston, 111., fitly summed up her 
life as he called her " one of Chicago's bravest pioneers, 
a saintly mother, a gracious wife, a noble member in 
the church militant, a friend of God's true ministers, a 
helper of the poor, an inspirer of missions, a loving 
counsellor in grief, a patient pilgrim in the highway 
of trial." 

But what is a picture without its background? The 
background in this case was Abram Holmes Hoge. 

And what shall I say for Mrs. Patterson, who rises 
up this day to call her father blessed? The good cheer 
of the faith which her father taught her frees old age 
from the winter of discontent, and makes an interview 
with her a benediction. 

The apostle Paul, in I Corinthians vii. 31, would 
have us, as Francis Jacox puts it, " use the world as 
not abusing it for the reason that the fashion of this 
world passeth away." The expression is said by Gro- 
tius and others to be borrowed from the theatre, and to 
refer to the scene-shifting of the stage. Life here be- 
low has verily its histrionic aspects; the fashion of it 
passeth away much as do the scene-painter's creations, 
the stage-carpenter's framework, the spectacular ef- 
fects and dissolving views, nay, the very actors them- 

109 



The Hoge Memorial Tablet 

selves. For all the world is in some sense a stage, 
and all the men and women merely players. 

" They have their exits and their entrances, 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages." 

" The measure of a happy life," writes Lord Shaftes- 
bury, he of the " characteristics," is not the fewer or 
more suns we behold, the fewer or more breaths we 
draw, or meals we repeat, but from the having once 
lived well, acted our part handsomely, and made our 
exit cheerfully — or to print it as he wrote it for the 
lovers of old books' sake, " And made our exit cheer- 
fully and as became us." 

So Thomas Hoge, amid the shifting scenes of his 
life — as it shifted from Tyrone to Edinburgh, from 
Edinburgh to Tyrone, from Tyrone to Philadelphia, 
from Philadelphia to Carlisle, from Carlisle to North- 
umberland, from Northumberland back to Carlisle, 
from Carlisle to Greensburgh, from Greensburgh to 
Washington, from Washington back to Philadelphia, 
to God's Acre — lived well, acted his part handsomely, 
and made his exit cheerfully because his life kept step 
to the heavenly rhythm of the word which has been 
cut into this bronze: " For other foundation can no 
man lay than that is laid which is Jesus Christ "; and if 
he could fill that face with what he knows, as he sees 
Jesus Christ as He is, methinks he would close this 
address with the word: 

" How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, 
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word ! 
What more can He say than to you He has said, 
To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled ? " 



Our Village Home 




Ki \ . G W. F. B1R( 11, D.D., II .1'. 



Our Village Home 

A SKETCH OF CLAYSVILLE, WASHINGTON CO.,TENN., 
By George W. F. Birch, D.D., LL.D. 

I wish that I could strike from Goldsmith's harp 
notes such as the imperishable numbers which en- 
shrine " Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain." 

I covet that acquaintance with the springs and ac- 
tions of human life, that profound sympathy with 
human conditions, that real kinship with human na- 
ture which George Crabbe brought to light when he 
described the " Borough " as its church, its sects, its 
electors, its lawyers, its physicians, its tradesmen, its 
clubs, its social meetings, its players, its inns, its alms- 
house, its hospital, its poor, its Peter Grimes, its pris- 
ons and its schools; compose what William Howitt 
called " the strangest, cleverest, and most absorbing 
book " he had ever read. 

I long for that power of imagination, that creative 
faculty — that love of nature — that insight of human 
character which made Scott the poet and Scott the 
novelist call forth from the mountains, lakes, cities, 
homes, and traditions of his native Scotland, incarna- 
tions of heroism, humor, and uniqueness which are 
historic. 

I would like to have the prerogative whereby Will- 
iam Wordsworth revealed that the ordinary walks of 

113 



Our Village Howe 

life preach the grand truth that, as an American critic 
puts it, " The beautiful is not confined to the rare, the 
new, the distant — to scenery and modes of life open 
only to the few; but that it is poured forth profusely 
to the common earth and sky, gleams from the loneli- 
est flower and lights up the humblest sphere; that the 
sweetest affections lodge in lowliest hearts; that there 
are sacredness, dignity, and loveliness which few eyes 
rest on; that even in the absence of all intellectual cul- 
ture, the domestic relations can quietly nourish that 
disinterestedness which is the element of all greatness 
and without which intellectual power is a splendid 
deformity." 

I feel in my present task the need of that grace, 
melody, and variety by which Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow has responded to every emotion which 
thrills the heart of humanity. 

My subject deserves the smoothness, the elegance, 
the thoughtfulness with which the genius of William 
Cullen Bryant crystallized his observation of the every- 
day life of American homes and communities. 

As I recall the dainty pictures of home, childhood, 
boyhood, which are the charm of Ik Marvel's " Rev- 
eries of a Bachelor," I crave, as I trace some recollec- 
tions of Claysville, Washington County, Pennsylvania, 
Our Village Home, the right to exclaim, " I, too, 
am a painter! " 

For in Our Village Home, Goldsmith, methinks, 
would have found his village preacher, his village 
schoolmaster, and his village inn. Crabbe could have 
sung of alley, lane, and street in describing our 
" Borough." Scott would have discovered the ma- 

114 



Our Village Home 

terial to mould the Antiquary or Jennie Deans or 
Dumbiedikes. Wordsworth would have been ac- 
quainted with a Benjamin the Wagoner, evolved the 
story of Peter Bell, caught the " Song of the Spinning 
Wheel," and experienced many a phase of the " Ex- 
cursion." Longfellow would have known a veritable 
Village Blacksmith, heard the " Old Clock on the 
Stairs," and contemplated " My Lost Youth." Bryant 
could have evoked his " Thanatopsis," described the 
" Old Man's Funeral," and walked through the groves 
to the music of the " Forest Hymn." Ik Marvel could 
have made us look through our tears at the home of 
our childhood. 

Hence if we cannot make the story of Our Village 
Home flash with the light of these stars of the literary 
firmament, I may at least venture with the flicker of 
my little lamp to interest and amuse, if not to instruct 
and impress. 

Moreover, the aim of this chapter is not without 
Scripture warrant. Indeed its appropriate text is 
found in the farewell song which Moses " spake in the 
ears " of his countrymen: " Remember the days of old, 
consider the years of many generations; ask thy 
father and he will show thee; thy elders and they will 
tell thee." (Deuteronomy xxxii. 7.) The philosophy 
of this direction appears in the thought that " Human 
progress is entirely dependent on the memory. By 
this power the mind retains or recalls knowledge once 
acquired, and thus garners the materials of thought, 
comparison, and deduction. Memory is at once the re- 
corder of the intellect and the storehouse of the affec- 
tions. Without this faculty of mind man w r ould be a 

"5 



Our Village Home 

perpetual novice — his past a blank, his future imbecil- 
ity — indeed he would not be man." 

So I recall the invocation which opens a poem by 
Willis Gaylord Clark: 

" Come, Memory, with thy power to paint and sing 
The vanished glory of life's little spring ! 
Back o'er the soul the light of childhood pour, 
And bring its blossoms, though they bloom no more. 
To fancy's eye unfold each braided wreath, 
Once twined on sunny brows, undimmed by death. 
Bring back the tale and lay of yore so dear 
Which fell in sweetness on the thirsty ear. 
When hope was singing like the lark at morn, 
And all the flowers of earth were newly born, 
Thanks for thy bidden aid — at thy command, 
As by the magic of the enchanter's wand, 
A thousand scenes returned to life arise 
Softer than moonbeams in the eastern skies ; 
Upspring a thousand roses fresh with dew 
And round my path their radiant tints renew. 
Their breath seems floating where the winds prevail, 
And birds and brooks give music to the gale. 
Mid skies where fancy moves the frolic wing 
Life's train of morning stars arise and sing." 

Our Village Site 

Beautiful for situation was Our Village Home. The 
original survey of the locality designated it as " Super- 
fine Bottom." Its horizon was narrowed by the high 
hills which inclosed the indented valley, along which 
the houses lined its single street. Those hills were 
magnificent parks of the noblest trees of the forest. 
They were crowned with the towering poplar, the 

116 



Our Village Home 

cathedral elm, the giant oak, the tall ash, the royal 
black walnut, the stately wild cherry, the straight 
hickory, the symmetrical maple, the expanding syca- 
more. To the north, to the south, to the east, to the 
west, wherever we looked, we saw a grove fit for the 
temple of a God. How beautiful those hills when 
spring dotted them with the white of the dogwood; 
when summer enrobed them in its luxuriant green; 
when autumn touched them with its tints of scarlet and 
gold; when winter gave them the whiteness of its snow 
and the sparkle of its ice! 

These forests of Our Village Home swarmed 
with animal life in the days of the Indian, and within 
the lifetime of the writer often rewarded the patience 
and skill of the hunter. An occasional wildcat or lone 
wolf recalled the days and dangers of the pioneers. 
Among my first recollections of the county paper are 
the announcements of " The Circular Hunt," which 
summoned every man, weapon, and dog from far and 
near to the capture of the crafty fox. That " same 
old coon," adopted in the " Forties " as the watch- 
word of a political party, was the frequent occasion of 
the most exciting sport, as before the flare of torch and 
the bay of dog he made a brave fight for life. That 
strange mixture of craft and dulness known as the 
opossum was an enemy of the hen-roost and lover 
of N the egg-basket, to which no lady of the farm gave 
any quarter. The nomenclature of our folklore had 
no word more familiar than " possuming," drawn from 
the well-known instinct of the animal, when caught, to 
feign death which became life when relieved of the 
presence of the captor. 

117 



Our Village Home 

I will never forget the squirrel hunts, which enlisted 
the interest of every marksman in town and county. 
The stillness of the early morn would be broken by the 
crack of the rifle; hill and hollow would be traversed 
as long as the sun was above the horizon. The hunters 
would come in witli their tale of game in the evening, 
the aggregate running up into the hundreds, and the 
day's enjoyment would close with a banquet — in the 
old-time parlance a supper — at which the victors in the 
hunt were the guests of the defeated. 

What boy of Western Pennsylvania has not traced 
along the snow the course of the odd, the quaint, and 
the ludicrous rabbit? 

I can hear even now the bird-chorus, whose war- 
blings hailed the opening of the day, filled the woods 
with their music, and were the voices of the night 
to the inhabitants of Our Village Home. A yearly 
epoch was reached when the pretty, sweet-voiced blue- 
bird appeared as the harbinger of spring. I recall the 
rich, mellow notes of the catbird; the loud, clear, vo- 
ciferous note of the blackbird; the twitter of the swal- 
lows, the "wee-whit-wee-e-whit" which names the pee- 
wit, the musical cry of the robin, the scream of the 
hawk, the caw of the crow, the cackle of the wild 
geese, and the quack of the wild duck, as they left the 
snow and sleet of the north for the bright skies and 
warm breezes of the south; the clatter of the martens, 
the mimic of the blue jay, the " Bob White " of the 
quail, the love-song of the bobolink, and last, but by 
no means least, the whoop of the owl, Christopher 
North's " Nimrod of the night and cat with wings." 
Indeed the birds made our village forest the exposition 

118 



Our Village Home 

of the faith-inspiring question of our Lord, " Are not 
five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of 
them is forgotten before God? " (Luke xii. 7), recalling 
the " Childhood Hymn " of Mrs. Hemans: 

"Tribes of the air ! whose tavored race 
May wander through the realms of space, 

Free guests of earth and sky ; 
In form, in plumage, and in song, 
What gifts of nature mark your throng 

With bright variety ! 

" Nor differ less your forms, your flight, 
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight, 

And the wild haunts ye love. 
Birds of the gentle beak ! how dear 
Your wood-note to the wanderer's ear, 

In shadowy vale or grove ! 

" Others no varied song may pour, 
May boast no eagle plume to soar, 

No tints of light may wear ; 
Yet know, our Heavenly Father guides 
The least of these, and well provides 
For each with tenderest care. 

" Shall He not then thy guardian be ? 
Will not His aid extend to thee f 

O safely mayest thou rest ! 
Trust in His love ; and even should pain, 
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain, 
Know what He wills is best." 

With such an environment our village must have 
been the home of the hunter. There was Perry, the 
shoemaker, whose gun was his boon companion, and 
whose career seemed to be a pendulum swinging be- 

119 



Our Village Home 

tween the bench and the woods. There was Samuel, 
the blacksmith, and his dog Bounce, whose bark at the 
foot of a tree seldom failed to locate a squirrel. There 
was Asbury, the merchant, whose Nimrodic exploits 
I do not forget, but which I cannot repeat. I did all 
my hunting as a carrier of the game which others shot, 
several vigorous kicks on the part of the gun having 
convinced me that I would never be a marksman. 

The following story stamps my reputation as a 
hunter: An adventurous American who was shoot- 
ing small game in Germany, said to his host that there 
was a spice of danger in shooting in America. " Ah," 
said the host, " you like danger mit your sport! Then 
you go out shooting mit me. The last time I shoot 
my brudder-in-law in the schtomack." 

Among the memories of our village hunting-ground 
is the case of an Irishman fresh from the Green Isle, 
who, soon after his arrival, thought that he would take 
a gunning excursion in America. Noticing a peculiar- 
looking bird, he fired, and brought to the ground a 
screech-owl. Turning to the boy who was his com- 
panion, he shouted, " Jimmie! Jimmie! " and gave him 
the charge to run home and tell his father that he had 
killed his Satanic Majesty himself. 

The stream which skirted the southern boundary 
of Our Village Home was a branch of what was known 
as the Dutch Fork of Buffalo Creek. The village, 
being near its upper springs, knew it as a mere brook, 
which, as it went on winding, twisting, leaping, dash- 
ing, growing, became Porter's Run, Anderson's Run, 
Coon Island Dam, De France's Dam, Cracraft's Dam, 
Waugh's Dam, until, in the mouth of the Buffalo, it was 

120 



Our Village Home 

lost in the Ohio River. The boys knew its swimming- 
places as the first hole, the second hole, the third hole, 
whose preeminence was emphasized by calling it the 
big hole. Its minnows, suckers, chubs, and catfish 
filled many a villager with the enthusiasm of Izaak 
Walton. It was not unusual to return from a fishins: 
expedition without a bite, but it was very unusual to 
return without a fish story. The customary bait was 
the ground-worm, and in the search for it we felt, if we 
did not verify, the following observation : " Darwin 
estimated that there are in gardens 53,767 worms to the 
acre. This tallies with our count when we were dig- 
ging the garden and didn't care a nickel about finding 
worms; but when we wanted bait for fishing, the 
garden didn't pan out a dozen worms to the acre. 
They had all emigrated to the garden of some other 
fellow who never goes fishing." In the case of our 
village stream the piscatorial results were so meagre as 
to confirm Dr. Johnson's definition of fishing, which, 
according to the old cynic, was a process carried on 
by a line with a hook at one end and a fool at the other. 
But while the fish did not make our village stream 
their haunt, its banks were the home of the lively, play- 
ful, weather-gauging muskrat. Another clerk of the 
weather made our brook his feeding-place if we are 
to accept the English tradition that the kingfisher al- 
ways turns his breast towards the quarter from which 
the wind is blowing; the kingfisher so swift of flight 
that I can even now see the streak of blue which 
marked his course through the air. Besides, to visit 
our brook was to see the only real dragon of God's 
creation, as we could not help but observe the glitter- 



Our Village Home 

ing colors of that active and voracious creature, the 
dragonfly. 

But the forest-clad hills and the meandering stream 
were not the only environment of our village. Our 
brook not only lined its hanks with the bending wil- 
lows, crowned them with the lily and dotted them 
with the modest violet; not only refreshed the roots 
of the giant oak and the shading elm, but it feasted 
our eyes with green fields and waving harvests. 

Those fields were alive with the hum of insect move- 
ment as the ear drank in the tenor of the honeybee, 
the treble of the wasp, the baritone of the bumblebee, 
the deep, thundering bass of the hornet. Were the 
men who bore the deadly brunt of Gettysburg, or who 
laid down their lives in the Wilderness, braver than 
when, as our village boys, they were the soldiers in em- 
bryo who stormed the home of the yellow-jacket, or 
returned to town from a battle with the terrible hornet, 
waving his nest as their trophy? 

As I write I recall the nights which were filled with 
the " drummings, bellowings, chatterings, and pip- 
ings " of the " Minstrels of the Marshes." And who 
is not familiar with William Black's " chatterer," " tell- 
tale," " scandal-monger," whom every boy knows as 
" katydid "? 

Our Village Street 

The principal, perhaps it would be nearer accuracy 
to state the only street of Our Village Home was, from 
the year 1818 to the year 1850, one of the interesting 
points in the United States of America. For our vil- 

122 



Our Village Home 

lage avenue was the Great National Road which, in the 
days of my early boyhood, was the main artery of com- 
munication between the East and the West. Indeed, 
the location of the National Road was the occasion of 
the existence of our village. So Our Village Home 
became a relay station of the stage-coach. It was a 
halting-place of that old timer of Western Pennsyl- 
vania whose imperishable likeness has been drawn by 
Thomas Buchanan Read in his " Wagoner of the 
Alleghenies." Its taverns furnished the resting-place 
of the traveller for the night. 

As life budded from infancy into impressible child- 
hood, I would stand by the window or at the palings 
of the yard fence, hour after hour, transfixed by the 
constantly moving panorama afforded by the National 
Road. So vivid was the impression and so imbedded 
by constant repetition that it is graven upon my mem- 
ory with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever, and 
I gaze upon that panorama as if I were back in child- 
hood's realm of wonderland. 

The National Road in the early " Forties " is to me a 
reproduction of the Appian Way, over which that dis- 
tinguished prisoner, the Apostle Paul, travelled to 
Rome. In the " Life and Epistles of Paul," by Cony- 
beare and Howson, this ancient thoroughfare is de- 
scribed as " that road which was at once the oldest 
and most frequented in Italy, and which was called, in 
comparison with all others, the ' Queen of Roads.' " 
To travel over it was to be, we are told, " on the most 
crowded approach to the metropolis of the world, in the 
midst of prsetors and proconsuls, embassies, legions, 
and turns of horse; to their provinces hasting or on 

123 



Our I'illage Home 

return; which Milton, in his description of the city 
enriched with the spoils of nations, has called us to 
behold in various habits on the Appian road." 

So the old pike was kept smooth by a steady stream 
of travel eastward and westward. All hours of the day 
and night resounded with the blast of the coachman's 
horn. A Conestoga wagon was nearly always in sight 
with its team of six and eight horses, in many cases at 
each step sending forth the melody of sweet-toned 
bells. It was unusual to travel very far without meet- 
ing the private conveyance and hundreds of horse- 
men and footmen, who, in the pursuit of business, 
sought health and recreation as they threaded their 
way through the valleys and over the hills of the mag- 
nificent highway. Drove after drove of horses, cattle, 
hogs, and, as I remember in one instance, turkeys 
passed on their way to the Eastern markets. Our vil- 
lage street's registry of travel enrolls presidents, sena- 
tors, congressmen, army officers of every grade, mer- 
chants, tourists, Indians — indeed, we may say, every 
class and condition of humanity. Our villagers shook 
hands with Andrew Jackson, William Henry Harrison, 
James K. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Henry Clay (whose 
monument was the pike, and whom the village hon- 
ored by its name), Lewis Cass, Thomas H. Benton, 
Thomas Corwin, and scores of others, whose names 
are identified with the progress and greatness of our 
country. How we boys were wont to gather around 
the heroes of the Mexican War on their way to the 
front or returning home! I can yet see the long- 
haired May, who made the famous charge at Palo 
Alto; that magnificent specimen of man, the noted 

124 



Our Village Home 

Captain Walker of the Rangers, who came home, 
raised a company, and went back to the seat of war to 
fall before the aim of a Mexican lancer. 

But there was scarcely a mile of the highway that 
did not have its local habitation and its name. There 
was Sugar Hill, Weirich's Hill, Coulson's Ridge, Cald- 
well's Hill, McClelland's Hill, Warrell's Hill, Coon 
Island Hill, Dug Hill, the Three Ridges' Hill, at the 
base of which runs the line which separates Pennsyl- 
vania from West Virginia, and whose top, when 
reached by climbing up what was known as Hard- 
scrabble Hill, found the climber satisfied that there was 
something in a name. 

Any account of the old pike would be incomplete 
without the mention of those bridges which are the 
admiration of observers even to this day, as they stand 
as if they were constructed but yesterday. The S 
Bridge at once recalled the letter of the alphabet to 
which it owed its name. Wickery's Bridge was the 
locality of a supposed murder and as the fatal termina- 
tion of a runaway which threw a coach, with its team, 
passengers, driver, and all, into the ravine which it 
spanned. 

The " Monument," which stood on the road between 
Triadelphia and Wheeling, was an object of universal 
interest as well as a point of departure. It was enough 
to satisfy inquiry concerning a traveller, to learn that 
he passed the " Monument " at any given time; or to 
locate an occurrence, to remark that it took place on 
this or the other side of the " Monument." This 
monument was a testimonial on the part of Moses 
Shepherd, and Lydia, his wife, to that magnificent 

125 



Our Ullage Home 

figure whom America will never forget as the latest 
generation extols the name of Henry Clay. Mr. and 
Mrs. Shepherd erected the monument as a token of 
their appreciation of the great Kentuckian's agency in 
the construction of the National Road. 

It was my privilege during (if my memory be not at 
fault) the year i860 to pass part of a morning in a 
visit to Mrs. Shepherd, when, having passed the ninety- 
fourth milestone, she was looking down through the 
vista of bygone years from a bright and cheery old age. 
She was familiar with the foundation builders and con- 
stitution makers of our nation. It was, indeed, some- 
thing for a person on the threshold of active life to 
gather from her treasury of recollections eye and ear 
impressions of the men who were leaders when forensic 
power was a potent factor in the legislative hall, and 
the cunning of the orator a prevailing power in political 
campaigns. 

Of course a boy would be interested in the names of 
the stage-coaches which once thronged the old pike. 
Every State of the Union was represented in the Na- 
tional Road Stage Company. Its rival, the Good 
Intent Line, took a wider range in its coach nomen- 
clature. With my pen in hand, I look across fifty 
years and find the names which a little boy was wont to 
read as the coach rushed by, standing out plainly and 
distinctly on the tablet of memory. And I spell out 
this moment the coach titles : Granite State, Bay State, 
Buckeye State, Keystone State. I became familiar 
with the great men of the day as the big letters which 
made Rough and Ready, at once suggested General 
Taylor; as the stage register enrolled General Cass, 

126 



Our Village Home 

Colonel Benton, and Henry Clay. I was introduced 
to every phase of fancy in the use of the names Fash- 
ion, Pathfinder, Ivanhoe, Industry, and Chancellor. I 
took lessons in geography, as I pronounced Yucatan, 
Tampico, Buena Vista, Ashland, Raritan, and Panama. 

Oh, I am a boy again as, moved by the absorbing 
ambition to be a stage-driver, it was my habit with the 
touch of imagination to change billets of wood into 
horses, and turning the wood-pile into a stage-mount, 
my ideal box, pick up the ropes and spliced straps 
which were my ideal reins, and cracking my real whip, 
shout to the near leader, make a dexterous cut at the 
off leader, and lean over to strike the right and left 
wheel, and throwing out my improvised mail at the 
visionary post-offices along the route, thus ride by the 
hour, on the wings of fancy, over the road from my 
home to the county seat. 

And it is the boy in me now which makes me wish 
for the pen with which Charles Dickens, in " Martin 
Chuzzlewit," describes Tom Pinch's famous ride from 
Salisbury into London. There was a "Yo-ho!" in 
every hilltop and valley from Wheeling to Washington. 

Kind reader, let us go over the old pike as the olden- 
time people were wont to do some fine forenoon during 
the month of May. The Cincinnati boat is at the 
Wheeling wharf. The Ohio stage has come to the 
door of the Wheeling tavern. We have chosen our 
line of coaches, either the Good Intent or National 
Line (commonly called the Old Line). We have se- 
cured the privilege of sitting with the driver. He may 
be venerable Billy Rome, or modest Bobby Mc- 
Elhenny, gentlemanly Dave Gordon, good-natured 

127 



Our Village Home 

Paris Eaches, steady Joe Henderson, patriarchal 
Watty Xoble, merry Archie McNeil, daring Jack 
Bailiss, neighborly Joe Whisson, lofty Tobe Banner, 
imperious Dave Armour, boisterous John Zinn, grace- 
ful Jim Burr, fatherly David Bell, genial John Mc- 
Elree, dignified John Ruth, garrulous Jim Schaverns, 
or great, big John Hoon. 

The passengers are seated, the mails are deposited, 
and climbing up Wheeling Hill, looking to the left, you 
think of McCulloch's fearful leap from the summit to 
the Ohio River, which runs as it did when Adam Poe 
released himself from the death-hug which he re- 
ceived in its waters from Big Foot, the Indian. These 
historic traditions remind you that the region through 
which you are riding is the scene of the hand-to-hand 
struggle by which the white man wrested from the 
savage the region of the Upper Ohio. 

Down the eastward slope of Wheeling Hill you fly, 
and roll on through Fulton and up the north bank of 
the Wheeling Creek, and passing Steenrods, Stelles, 
and Hornbrooks, so beautiful for situation, until from 
the valley of Elm Grove you look up the way by the 
Shepherd mansion, through the trees to the stone 
church known as the Forks of Wheeling, where full 
proof was made of his ministry of the Gospel by that 
humble country pastor, that consistent Christian, that 
acute theologian, that firm Presbyterian, known 
through all the region as Father Hervey. 

On, on, up the narrow valley to Triadelphia, and 
who that has ever seen it will forget the Cottage Inn, 
spread out like an Eastern caravansary, with its colos- 
sally proportioned landlord, Frank Lawson? 

128 



Our Village Home 

" Get up, Bill! " " Hurry on, Tom! " " Keep up, 
Nellie!" "Behave yourself, Bet! " " Gee up! " and with 
a crack of whip you whirl on as the cattle slaking their 
thirst in the run, as the sheep scampering up the hill- 
side, the farmer looking up from his plough, the boy 
leaning on his hoe, the housewife rushing to the door 
to look at the stage, are left behind; and we stop 4 at 
Brotherton's for a change of team. It was not until 
I was engaged upon this transcript of reminiscence, 
that the light of past days flashed upon this spot as a 
hive of tender memories. The Brotherton stage-stand 
was my first dwelling-place away from home. I feel 
this moment the pangs of that homesickness. Neither 
has the mental vision lost the impression of that quiet 
old man, that motherly matron, whose old-fashioned 
Pennsylvania ways made their traveller's rest a real 
home. 

Our fresh horses soon carry us into Pennsylvania 
to the foot of Scrabble Hill, and, reaching its summit, 
we are in West Alexander, where we call to mind three 
citizens at whom it was not possible for an irreverent 
man to sneer without telling the truth as he designated 
the triumvirate as King George, Lord Colin, and 
Christ McCluskey; because King George's store was 
the exchange of Donegal Township; Lord Colin, his 
brother, would have been a man of mark in any com- 
munity; and if a burning love of souls, a consuming 
zeal in the advancement of God's Church, an untiring 
devotion to the benefit, temporal and spiritual, of every 
man, woman, and child in the community ever made 
any man worthy to wear the name of Christ, that man 
was the Rev. John McCluskey, D.D., so long the 

129 



Our Village Home 

pastor of the Presbyterian Church at West Alexan- 
der. 

Dr. McCluskey answered the prayer which our Lord 
directs the church to make, as through his superin- 
tendence of the West Alexander Academy from eighty 
to one hundred laborers were introduced into God's 
harvest. 

We linger a moment at the summit of Scrabble Hill 
to recall the good times of which the old building, once 
known as Lawson's Tavern, was the centre. Joseph 
Lawson, wagoner and innkeeper, was a unique char- 
acter. At one time defiant of both God and man, he 
became one of the meekest and lowliest disciples of 
Jesus. He went down to the grave mourning because 
he never received any tidings of his beloved boy and 
namesake, Joe, after he entered upon the bloody cam- 
paign of the Wilderness. 

We cannot leave West Alexander without placing 
on record the town's deserved title as the Gretna Green 
of America. Whatever may be the truth concerning 
the matches which are made in Heaven, the record 
shows that Squire Sutherland and Squire Mayes made 
several thousand matches at West Alexander on the 
earth, of which some five thousand are said to have 
been elopements. Doubtless the parties to these mar- 
riages shared in many cases the experience which has 
found expression in the story of the colored gentleman 
who, during the performance of the ceremony at his 
second marriage, when the clergyman asked the bride, 
" Do you promise to love, honor, and obey? " inter- 
rupted the parson with the request, " Stop right dar, 
sah; say that over again, sah, in order dat de female 

130 



Oar Village Home 

may ketch the solemnity ob de meanin'. I'se been 
married before." 

But we are all aboard again. How the hoofs clatter, 
and the limestones as it were shoe the horses with 
sparks of fire as we whirl around the ridge, and with a 
glance at the attractive hostelry of John Valentine, 
with a bow to Billy McCleary, at the quaint polygonal 
toll-house; with a thought upon the poet of the Done- 
gal Highlands who looked out upon the valley from 
the top of Coon Island Hill, we fly like the wind down 
the steep incline to Coon Island, which may have ex- 
isted during that geologic period known as the coon 
age! To pass Coon Island was to remember that a 
mile or two northward dwelt old John Hupp, the 
Indian fighter and deer hunter, and that a little further 
on was the site of the old block-house which protected 
the wives and children of the brave pioneers of Done- 
gal Township. On from Coon Island we bowl up 
the valley which, as I look back upon youth, resurrects 
a boy friend whose sesquipedalian utterance made the 
hearer feel that the dictionary had been the mother's 
milk of his infancy, and which as we near its end 
makes me think of that stern old matron whom we 
knew as Aunt Margaret. 

Mounting the western rampart of " Our Village," 
clearing the summit marked by Porter's Spring, we 
bring up at the home of my playmates, the Kurtzes, 
or at the home of my playmates, the Dyes and the 
Walkers. I have known the wheels to scarcely cease 
revolving before the horses were changed. How the 
rival lines would race down our village street, and 
quiet Billy Rome would use the lines as if he were 

131 



Our Village Ha 

seized with the jerks, the lazy whip of Bobby Mc- 
Elhenny would be charged with electricity, and the 
stentorian lungs of John Zinn would change his team 
into the likeness of four scared rabbits! Then how the 
whips would crack and the wheels would spin as the 
prancing teams left for the eastward on the gallop! 

The last look at Our Village Home was from the 
residence of one of whom I often think as I look upon a 
sickle as he thrust it into the standing grain bare- 
headed and barefooted. The next house brings the 
tears, as its father and mother were like brother and 
sister to my father and mother. The bench of the 
same hill brought us to a signboard on which was in- 
scribed the announcement, " Entertainment for Man 
and Beast," accompanied by the picture of a tumbler 
and a square piece of cake, which every boy in the 
neighborhood understood to mean Grannie McFar- 
land's spruce beer and gingerbread. The next house 
was the home of a man who reached old age drinking 
more whiskey and staggering less than any drunkard 
I ever knew. It is not long until Mrs. Caldwell, from 
her famous inn, surveys us through her spectacles. 
The next hilltop recalls a pair of black eyes which 
brought a crowd of devotees to the shrine of their 
owner. In another moment our minds are occupied 
with the beautiful home and plethoric purse of Big 
Billy Brownlee. And but a mile to the southward is 
the Alrich meeting-house, where Gospel simplicity 
was demonstrated by the veteran mathematical pro- 
fessor of Washington College. 

But we have not yet reached the Red Barn. " Gee 
up! " shouts our driver, and on we glide through 

132 



Our Village Home 

Rankintown until we turn the corner at Chestnut and 
Main Streets in Washington to stop at the Old Man- 
sion, or to be nearer the Catfish at the tavern of the 
famous stage agent, Edward Lane. 

Hence we indulged in no fancy when we esteemed 
our village highway to be a world centre. It kept our 
little town in touch with the round globe. It appealed 
to all that was elevating in the beautiful and all that 
was stirring in the romantic. 

To-day the National Road is a mere wagon track, 
fringed with green. A ride over it will show only 
here and there a traveller. The various neighbor- 
hoods through which it runs give it a little stir morning 
and evening. The innumerable caravan which once 
moved to and fro over it has, for the most part, joined 
" the innumerable caravan which moves to the silent 
halls of death." 

The following lines on " The Old Country Road," 
written by James Newton Matthews for the Ladies' 
Home Journal, so aptly describe " The Old National 
Road " that I accommodate them to my purpose. 

" Where did it come from, and where did it go ? 
That was the question that puzzled us so 
As we waded the dust of the highway that flowed 
By the town like a river — the old National Road. 

\ 

*' We stood with our hair sticking up thro' the crown 
Of our hats, as the people went up and went down. 
And we wished in our hearts, as our eyes fairly glowed, 
We could find where it came from — the old National Road. 

"We remember the peddler who came with his pack 
Adown the old highway, and never went back ; 

133 



Our Village Home 

And we wondered what things he had seen as he strode 
From some fabulous place up the old National Road. 

" We remember the stage-driver's look of delight, 
And the crack of his whip as he whirled into sight, 
And we thought we could read in each glance he bestowed 
A tale of strange life up the old National Road. 

"The movers came by like a ship in full sail, 
With a rudder behind, in the shape of a pail — 
With a rollicking crew, and a cow that was towed 
With a rope on her horns, down the old National Road. 

" Oh, the top of the hill was the rim of the world, 
And the dust of the summer that over it curled 
Was the curtain that hid from our sight the abode 
Of the fairies that lived up the old National Road. 

" The old National Road ! I can see it still flow 
Down the hill of my dreams, as it did long ago, 
And I wish even now I could lay off my load, 
And rest by the side of that old National Road." 

O glorious old pike! In thy day the route of trans- 
portation, the path of the emigrant, the delight of the 
traveller, well hast thou finished the work which the 
country gave thee to do. For thou art the inspiration 
of that mighty instinct that doth unite earth's neigh- 
borhoods with friendly bands. 



Our Village Hearthstone 

Our Village Home might not quicken the fancy of 
the poet nor excite the attention of the historian. Its 
<l\vcllings might curl the lip of the architect with a 
sneer. Its limited extent might prove nothing else 

i34 



Our Village Home 

than a prison to the man of the world. But the old 
hearthstone makes it poetry and history and beauty 
all the world to me, simply because there is no place 
like home. The perennial freshness with which mem- 
ory clothes the family nest explains the pathos which 
moved our whole nation when the news flashed over 
the wires that the remains of John Howard Payne had 
been brought to the home into which he crystallized 
every home by those strains to whose music the heart 
of humanity responds in the world-wide chorus: 

" Home, home, sweet, sweet home." 

It took five dwelling-places to make my early home. 
I analyze the composite picture as I stand once more 
on the long porch, whose outlook was the whole length 
of the village street; as I walk up the locust-canopied 
line; as I drink from the old spring which has never 
within the memory of " the oldest inhabitant " failed 
to pour forth its cooling stream; as I walk through the 
front yard, with its evergreens, its quaking aspen, its 
silver maple, its beds of pinks, verbenas, geraniums, its 
roses, red and white; its vines, wrapping trellis and wall 
in their embrace. 

" When thoughts recall the past " I find Old Dog 
Tray in the field of vision as I whistle for Bony and 
Bulk and Watch and Bruiser. I would I were a boy 
again as I ride and drive old Suke, Bet the mother and 
Bet the colt; as thus Alexander was on Bucephalus; 
Tarn O'Shanter, 

" Mounted on his gray mare Meg, 
Skelpit on through dub and mire, 
Despising wind and rain and fire." 

135 



Our Village Home 

But Don Quixote was never on Rosinantes. A daily 
walk to and from the pasture field made me know 
when the cows came home. 

In the light which crowned the home hearthstone I 
contemplated the movements of the world as chron- 
icled by newspapers of the time. Tom Grayson's 
lively pen and George Hart's thoughtful summary in 
the Washington Examiner; John Bausman's graceful 
style in the Washington Reporter; Seth T. Hurd's witti- 
cisms in the Washington Commonwealth; the weekly 
compendium of events in Alexander's Express Messen- 
ger; the fund of tale and miscellany in the Saturday 
Evening Post; the sensible editorials and interesting 
resume of the Dollar Newspaper (the weekly edition of 
the Philadelphia Ledger) — all contributed their part to 
make the boy a man of affairs in embryo. 

The home library, although not colossal, has been 
no unimportant element of my intellectual life. 
Haven's illustrated " Book of Trades " gave me 
an insight of the various things that man's hand 
finds to do. Chauncey Goodrich's " History of the 
United States " was so frequently read that its vivid 
narrations of the " Battle of Saratoga," the " Trea- 
son of Benedict Arnold," the " Capture of John 
Andre," the " Desertion of Sergeant Champe," the 
" Death of Washington," and the " Funeral of Will- 
iam Henry Harrison " are indelibly imprinted on my 
memory. 

A small collection of books (not more than twenty 
volumes), known as " Parley's Cabinet Library," 
riveted the enthusiastic interest of youth. I recall the 
sketches of Josephine, Mrs. Barbauld, Lady Hester 

136 



Our Village Home 

Stanhope, Hannah More, Martha Washington, and 
Abigail Adams, in the volume entitled " Famous 
Women " ; of Solon, Socrates, Plato, Alcibiades, De- 
mosthenes, Cicero, Csesar, and Seneca, in " Famous 
Men of Ancient Times " ; of Cromwell, Charles the 
First, William Penn, in " Famous Men in Modern 
Times " ; of Zerah Colburn, Admiral Crichton, Cas- 
par Hauser, Daniel Lambert, and John Elwes, in 
" Curiosities of Human Nature," along with as good 
a description as I ever saw of England and Eng- 
lishmen, in " Manners and Customs of European Na- 
tions." 

I still feel the impression of the truth in its im- 
perishableness, its heroism and its triumph, which 
came to me when I grasped D'Aubigne's " History of 
the Reformation." A factor of my life has been the 
useful information, secular and religious, which I ab- 
sorbed from a Sunday-school library issued by the 
London Religious Tract Society. 

I also foraged on the literary wares of my neighbors, 
and was very much attracted by the " Legends " of 
George Lippard in the work entitled " Washington 
and his Generals." I turned the pages of Captain 
Marryat's " Peter Simple " with the keen interest of 
a boy who was learning his first lesson in what Wash- 
ington Irving called " the chivalry of the ocean." I 
was deeply moved by Jane Porter's touching story of 
" Thaddeus of Warsaw " and her tales of " The Scot- 
tish Chiefs." I took a short excursion into that the- 
saurus of the past known by our fathers as " Rollin's 
Ancient History." The summer days will never be 
forgotten in which I read Shakespeare and Byron. I 
io 137 



Our Village Home 

remember well how the literary circle in Our Village 
Home was stirred by the appearance of Macaulay's 
" History of England," Harper's Monthly Magazine, 
and " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 

But the dear ones around the village hearthstone! 
Where are they now? No longer on Sunday evening 
do we read aloud from the Bible, each taking his or 
her turn, from the father to the youngest child; recite 
the answers of the Catechism, worship God in song, 
and bow to Him in prayer. No longer do we make 
the walls ring with music, sacred and secular, vocal 
and instrumental, as with the aid of the neighboring 
boys and girls we drummed the piano, scraped the 
riddle, buzzed with the jewsharp, thundered with the 
bass-viol, and waked the guitar. No longer do we 
wait for the college vacation or for the yearly home- 
coming of those who had gone out from the old nest, 
so that the old circle may be itself again. The father, 
full of years and rich in the love and respect of the com- 
munity, still sits at the fireside. Death, however, has 
made us understand the philosophy of Wordsworth's 
" We are Seven." No more as I turn the corner from 
the depot do I see mother at the gate waiting to wel- 
come me home. Dear, lovely Frank, my companion 
brother, of prodigious memory, of brilliant imagina- 
tion, quick intellectual perception, acute moral sense, 
had scarcely entered into the activities of earthly life 
ere he mounted to the higher life, saying: " I shall soon 
see greater things than you." Dear, modest, quiet 
Willie wanted us to sing because death was open- 
ing his ear to the swelling harmony of the New Jeru- 
salem. 

138 



Our Village Home 

God be thanked for my village hearthstone! 
The vacant chambers where the loved ones slept are 
sanctuaries. The empty chairs where the loved ones 
sat are altars. As I saw the cradle in which I was 
rocked, my heart was touched by the following lines: 

MY CRADLE 

A dark little closet stands under the stair, 
With some scraps of old furniture stocked, 

And save these few things it is dusty and bare — 

A most unfit place for an object so rare ; 

Yet something I prize very highly is there: 
'Tis the cradle in which I was rocked. 

To me, oft as I've gazed on the treasure before, 
Sweet thoughts of my childhood have flocked, 
Of the playmates and friends of those bright days of yore, 
Of the father whose face I shall never see more, 
And the mother who bent with fondness o'er 
The dear cradle in which I was rocked. 

I've had many a couch since in it I have lain ; 

The cold world has scorned me, and mocked ; 
My bravest endeavors have proved all in vain ; 
The joys have all flown that I hoped would remain, 
And it seems naught is left me but sadness and pain 

And the cradle in which I was rocked. 

The path of my life is so rugged and steep, 
And with so many hardships is blocked, 

That my feet grow so weary I scarcely can creep ; 

But there's no room to rest, and there's no time to weep 

Though I fain would return and again fall asleep 
In the cradle in which I was rocked. 

139 



Our Village Home 

But as oft as I open that old closet door 

The mystery of love is unlocked : 
I seem to become mother's baby once more ; 
My heart swells with love and with hope as of yore, 
And I pray with much faith as I kneel on the floor 

Near the cradle in which I was rocked. 

Roy. 
Morrow, O. 



Our Village Population 

Our Village Home numbered about three hundred 
souls. Among these there were the peers of the three 
hundred who followed Gideon to victory as well as of 
the three hundred who, with heroic Leonidas, taught 
the proud Xerxes that there were Greeks who would 
cheerfully die for their country. Lord Byron sings 
the following prayer: 

" Earth ! render back from out thy breast 
A remnant of our Spartan dead ; 
Of the three hundred grant but three 
To make a new Thermopylae." 

The history of Our Village Home has more than 
one Thermopylae. The one who met death so bravely, 
the one whom I saw plunging into the death-damp 
of an old well to save human life, the one who would 
not be driven from his determination to secure an 
education — each made a new Thermopylae. 

The range of nativity in our village population was 
quite extensive. It included, besides those to the 
manor born, the members of a colony from the North 

140 



Our Village Home 

of Ireland, the h-dropping Englishman, the Mary- 
lander, and the Pennsylvania Dutchman. Our village 
was unique in the absence of the colored people. I 
remember but one resident, and an occasional visitor, 
whom all Washington County knew as " Dungy and 
his sugar-sticks." It was the current report concern- 
ing the taffy pedler that he prepared for pulling his 
molasses candy by spitting on his hands. 

Our village population was a very distinct revelation 
of the kaleidoscope of human nature. Every grade 
of talent, every feature of eccentricity, every variety 
of taste, seemed to have its subject in our little town. 
There was Uncle Bobby, whether at the blacksmith's 
forge on the weekdays or in the elder's pew on the 
Sabbath, so wise, witty, religious, and humble. There 
was Uncle Watty, who, a retired stage-driver, was a 
venerable gentleman. There was Squire Miller, a 
man of wide reading and great mental acuteness, 
whose conversation was an education. And what 
genuine old ladies were the admiration of Our Village 
Home! They were the doctors, nurses, counsellors, 
and helpers of the whole community. The active citi- 
zens were, as a rule, intelligent, industrious, and 
abreast of the times. There was a general impression 
of the value of money, illustrating an American trait 
which was brought to the attention of Professor Park, 
of Andover, during a tour of Germany. Dr. Park 
was standing by a magnificent building. A German 
professor approached him and said, " I perceive, sir, 
that you are an Englishman." Professor Park smiled 
and made no reply. A moment later the professor in- 
quired, " Do you know the cost of this building? " 

141 



Our Village Home 

The German at once exclaimed, " I perceive, sir, that 
you are an American. I do verily believe that when 
an American comes to stand before the great white 
throne, his first words will be, ' How much did it 
cost?'" 

The good wives of the town, in more cases than 
one, had their husbands under good control. I think of 
several who bring to mind the related experience of the 
stranger who called at forty-eight different houses in 
Cleveland, and asked, " Is the boss home? " There was 
no man home in any one instance, and yet forty-seven 
of the women promptly replied: " Yes, sir! What do 
you want?" 

Like all other communities of imperfect humanity, 
our native place gave a home to the village gossip. 
Neither was the wag of tongue confined to the gentler 
sex. The thirst to gather and retail statements, con- 
cerning persons rather than things, developed many a 
masculine talebearer. I recall special instances of the 
clatter, " I heard," " You don't say," " I don't believe 
it," " There must be something in it," " Said I," 
" Said he," " Said she." So that we were familiar with 
a phenomenon noted by one of our leading periodicals, 
as follows: " We have many times been an unwilling 
listener to the ' said she ' and ' said I ' narrations in 
public conveyances, and elsewhere; but never knew an 
instance where the ' said I's ' didn't say all the smart 
things, and the ' said she's ' all the stupid, vicious ones, 
or where the 'said I's ' didn't come off victorious in the 
end." 

A near relative of the gossip was the exaggerator. 
This character seemed to thrive on visits to the Great 

142 



Our Village Home 

West. The prairies in their extensiveness, and his 
native valleys in their narrowness, gave the truth a 
distortion which was simply amusing. We were ac- 
customed to hear accounts of the richness of the land 
which were fully equal to the railroad's agent's praise 
of the Arkansas Valley. His narrative was so extrava- 
gant that he was asked if there was anything that 
wouldn't grow there. " Yes," he answered quickly, 
" pumpkins won't." " Why not? " was the question. 
The reply was: " The soil is so rich and the vines grow 
so fast that they wear out the pumpkins, dragging 
them over the ground." 

The stage-driver and the wagoner fairly revelled in 
the big story. The big story was the ideal in which 
they clothed their real experience of the incidents, both 
humorous and tragical, which marked the prosecution 
of their calling. Their contact with every phase of 
human nature made them the news-gatherers and the 
news-distributors of the communities along the Na- 
tional Road. They were so often in perils of storm 
and darkness and snow and ice and mud as to com- 
pel the most wonderful feats of expertness in the man- 
agement of their teams. It must be confessed that the 
narratives which these feats evolved were mainly im- 
aginary. Yet the historical background of their big 
stories is just as true as that from which came forth 
the wondrous literary creations of Sir Walter Scott. 
Hence there is a rough though true photograph of the 
real in a tradition of Our Village Home that a company 
of wagoners were talking once of their exploits in con- 
nection with the spring mud through which they were 
often compelled to wade. At last old Billy M , 

i43 



Our I 'Mage Home 

whom I can see as if it were but yesterday, contributed 
his tale. " That's nothing," said he. He declared 
that once when he was on the road with a six-horse 
team he drove at a place where the mud was so deep 
that all he had to guide him were the ears of the horse 
in the lead. The same man gave a true photograph 
of what we would have felt under similar circum- 
stances when, referring to a time when he was load- 
ing his wagon in Baltimore, he affirmed that in going 
from the store to the wagon with a bag of lead on his 
shoulders, he sank to his knees in the pavement. 

A cousin german of the exaggerator was the pro- 
fessional politician. The newspaper of his party was 
so much the political Bible of this individual, that 
where it praised he commended, and where it abused 
he denounced. The village store and the village bar- 
room were, by turns, the forum of this tribute of the 
people. His vocabulary was so familiar to the ear of 
childhood that, before I was twelve years of age, I 
knew whether I fully understood or not of the " Tariffs 
of '42 and '46," the " Buckshot War," the " United 
States Bank," "Whig and Democrat," "Tory and 
Locofoco," " Neutral and Abolitionist," " Tippecanoe 
and Tyler too," " Salt River," besides being acquainted 
with every phase of county politics. 

The word " Abolitionist " is the wand which wakes 
from memory two men who were members of that 
party when it was but a handful of corn upon the top 
of the mountains. One was a real prophet of fire and, 
though without a liberal education, a natural genius; 
an impassioned orator; breath, blood, bone, and muscle 
an agitator. Neither the bitter taunt nor angry threat 

144 



Our Village Home 

nor contemptuous sneer could drive our village 
Wendell Phillips from the crusade in behalf of the 
slave. 

However, the investigations of the village senate, 
in its several places of assembly, were not confined to 
the political horizon. I have known the company in 
the village store to resolve itself into a committee of 
the whole on mathematical, especially arithmetical, 
problems. The arbiter of the science of quantity in 
the community was the proprietor of the brick store, 
whose delight in the solution of a problem was in pro- 
portion to its intricacy of statement. 

I cannot forbear the introduction of one of the arith- 
metical jokes of the village traditions. Two persons 

of the vicinity, known as Mr. B and Patrick C, 

had met to make a final settlement for work done for 
the former by the latter. The former presented his 
statement of the account, and asked the latter if he 
were satisfied. According to the story, Patrick took 
the calculation and commenced: " Nort from nort and 
nort remains." Then, with an expletive as full of 
vigor as it was destitute of reverence for the third 

commandment, he asserts, " Mr. B. , you owe me 

fifty cents." 

Our village senate would often leave the store and 
the barroom for the schoolhouse and resolve itself 
into a debating society. The village disputants used 
to wrestle with such questions as involved the com- 
parative merits of a tariff and a direct tax. I reach 
over the lapse of years and turn the leaves of the old 
record book, and " Is there more pleasure in pursuit 
than in possession?" My ears recall the eloquence 

145 



Our Village Home 

that was poured forth concerning Napoleon Bonaparte 
and the Duke of Wellington. 

The literary world seems to be determined that the 
close of the nineteenth century shall not be blind to 
that " little Corsicar\ " who was the prominent figure 
in the political world at its opening. As my thoughts 
go back to the days of our village debating club, I am 
convinced that it was about as successful in its homely 
analysis of the character of Napoleon as the most 
acute and judicial of our historians. Sir Archibald 
Alison asserts that there is no man who can say that 
he has a clear conception of what Napoleon's character 
actually was — brave, without being chivalrous; some- 
times humane, seldom generous; insatiable in am- 
bition, inexhaustible in resources; without a thirst 
for blood, but totally indifferent when his interests 
were concerned; without any fixed ideas in religion, 
but a strong perception of its necessity as a part of the 
mechanism of government; a great general with a 
small army, a mighty conqueror with a large one; 
gifted with extraordinary powers of perception and the 
clearest insight into every subject connected with man- 
kind, without extensive information derived from 
study, but the rarest aptitude for making himself mas- 
ter of every subject from actual observation; ardently 
devoted to glory, and yet incapable of the self-sacrifice 
which constitutes its highest honors; he exhibited a 
mixture of great and selfish qualities such as, perhaps, 
never were before combined in any single individual. 
His greatest defect was the constant and systematic 
disregard of truth which pervaded all his thoughts. 

The same writer adopts the sentiment of another, 
146 



Our Village Home 

who styled Wellington " a Caesar, without his ambi- 
tion; a Pompey, without his pride; a Marlborough, 
without his avarice; a Frederick, without his infidelity." 
Of course, as a part of that sovereignty which our 
Constitution has put into the hands of the people, our 
village debating society would canvass questions in 
which it would take issue for and against such men 
as Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, and Daniel Webster. 
I simply advert to these names to refresh our minds 
with respect to these great men. 

Henry Clay 

It is generally conceded that neither ancient nor 
modern times has presented a so nearly complete 
specimen of natural eloquence, or a so great power of 
adaptation to the assemblies whom his wondrous 
oratory made the subjects of his will. In the personal 
memories of E. D. Mansfield there is the record of 
an incident in connection with the " disgust " which 
Mr. Clay, by some vote in Congress, had created 
among his mountaineer constituents, known as the 
" Hunters of Kentucky." Mr. Clay called a meeting, 
and, in the course of his speech, fixing his eye on one 
of his old supporters, said: " Suppose, my friend, you 
had an old rifle which you had borne through the 
hills many a day, and it had never failed you; but now 
you put it to your shoulder and it snapped, but hung 
fire, would you break the stock and throw it away, or 
would you try it again? " 

" I would try it again. We'll try you again, Harry 
Clay! " shouted the hunters. 

147 



Our Village Home 

Our Village Home had an especial interest in Henry 
Clay. Its founders saw in the Great Commoner and 
staunch friend of the National Road the man whom 
they delighted to honor, and gave the new settlement 
his name. In his journeys to and fro from Washing- 
ton, it was his wont to stop and cordially greet the 
inhabitants of our little town. Well do I remember 
the day when I formed one of a group which gathered 
at the stage station to await the arrival of Henry Clay. 
The impression of that venerable face, the tones of that 
voice which had been the occasion of such marvels 
of the orator's cunning, that fur cap and blue coat, will 
never be dislodged from my memory. 

John C. Calhoun 

We have no reason to believe that he would have 
shrunk from the consequences of the seed that he 
planted as the Apostle of Secession. Let it suffice 
here to quote Daniel Webster's description of his elo- 
quence: " It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, pre- 
cise; sometimes impassioned, still always severe. Re- 
jecting ornament, not often seeking far for illustration, 
his power consisted in the plainness of his propositions, 
in the closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and 
energy of his manner." 

Daniel Webster 

Thomas Carlyle met Daniel Webster during his visit 
to England. In a letter to Ralph Waldo Emerson he 
says: " Not many clays ago I saw at breakfast the 

148 



Our Village Home 

notablest of all your notabilities, Daniel Webster. He 
is a magnificent specimen. You might say to all the 
world, ' This is your Yankee Englishman; such limbs 
we make in Yankee land! ' As a Logic-fencer, Advo- 
cate, or Parliamentary Hercules, one would incline 
to back him at first sight against all the extant world. 
The tanned complexion; that amorphous, crag-like 
face; the dull, black eyes under their precipice of 
brows, like dull anthracite furnaces needing only to be 
blown; the mastiff mouth accurately closed — I have 
not traced so much of silent Berserker rage that I re- 
member of in any other man." 

But I must not forget that our village population 
was but a section of 

Our Village Neighborhood 

Alexander, Brownlee, Carson, Craig, Dickey, Egan, 
Henderson, Hutchinson, McMillen, Marshall, Me- 
cracken, Meloy, Moore, Robinson, are surnames 
which show that our part of Washington County was 
the Canaan of the North of Ireland, the Beersheba 
where the Scotch-Irishman pitched his home, his 
school, and his church. Some of these surnames are 
remarkable for their connection with the same Chris- 
tian name. Thus in one case the community dis- 
tinguished the members of a family connection as 
" Big Billy," " Little Billy," " Miller Billy," " Patton 
Billy," Hutchinson Billy," " Laughing Billy," " Blue 
Billy," and " Slim Jim," and " Blue Jim." Another 
family had a member whom the whole country jocosely 
stamped as " Imaginative Jim." To the northward 

149 



Our Village Home 

from Our Milage Home there was a colony of Penn- 
sylvania Dutch, who seemed to take to the Christian 
name of Christopher. 

Our village neighborhood was given up to the work 
of agriculture. The farmer of our community was 
one 

" Who with peculiar grace his station filled, 
By deeds of hospitality endeared, 
Served from affection, for his worth revered. 
A happy offspring blessed his plenteous board ; 
His fields were fruitful and his barns well stored. 
And (flocks) he fed : a sturdy team ! 
And lowing kine that graz'd beside the stream. 
Unceasing industry he kept in view — 
The fields his study, nature was his book. 
And as revolving seasons changed the scene 
From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene, 
Through every change, still varied his employ, 
Yet each new duty brought its share of joy." 

One peculiarity of our farmers was the line they 
drew between the value of an article while it was for 
sale and after it was sold, thus confirming the word of 
the writer of the Book of Proverbs: " It is naught, 
it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he is gone his 
way, then he boasteth;" and bringing to mind the 
somewhat ludicrous but significant story mentioned by 
Augustine, in which a theatrical mountebank an- 
nounces to his audience that at his next entertainment 
he will show every man what is in his heart. When he 
stood before the immense concourse, he redeemed his 
pledge by a single sentence: " Vili vultis emere et caro 
vendere." — " You wish to buy cheap and sell dear." 
Although they were so neighborly, so hospitable, and 

150 



Our Village Home 

so accommodating that they would share with you any 
product of the farm, yet it was like pulling a tooth to 
draw from them the least denomination of the current 
coin of the realm. I recall a man who, when he went 
to pay for a farm, would make one think of a person 
going to mill. He would ride into our village, sitting 
on a bag thrown across the saddle, the stones at one 
end of it being balanced by a half-bushel of half-dollars 
at the other. The panorama of memory presents more 
than one who were in sympathy with the old farmer, 
who, as the story goes, came into his town looking for 
an editor's table on which to build a hen's nest. He 
explained that he had learned from the papers that the 
biggest eggs were always laid on the editor's table, and 
he wished to ascertain whether the papers lied or not. 

The tables of our village neighborhood were marvels 
of culinary skill. The boys who sauntered from town 
could find the way to this one's honey and to that one's 
jam. Although it was not customary to eat by 
courses, I believe that few of our vicinage would 
have been as unsophisticated as the new member of 
Congress who sent home the following description 
of his experience at a dinner in the Capital of the Na- 
tion. " There was nothing on the table when I got 
there but some forks and spoons and bricky-brac. 
Presently they brought in some soup. As I didn't see 
nothin' else, I thought I'd eat all the soup I could, 
though soup is a mighty poor dinner to invite a fellow 
to. So I was helped four times, and then come on 
the finest dinner I ever see, and there I sot," groaned 
he, " chock full of soup." 

A marked feature of our village neighborhood was 

151 



Our Ullage Home 

the intermarriage of kin. In no small number of in- 
stances the marriage knot was the tie of consanguinity, 
making the genealogical record a story of mixed 
phenomena. 

Neither the opposition of parents nor the unfavor- 
able comment of the neighbors prevented the young 
people of our community from giving the marriage 
pledge in early life. My recollection of early mar- 
riages convinces me that the dire prophecies concern- 
ing them have not, by a great deal, been fulfilled. It 
was rather " John Anderson, my jo John," from the 
beginning to the end. There was nothing of the feel- 
ing that was said to have inspired a Detroit girl who 
married at fifteen so as to have her golden wedding 
when it would do her some good. 

Let me not be understood as conveying the idea that 
every household of our region was free from family 
jars. There were commotions which suggested the 
story of a North Carolina justice of the peace, who 
married a couple as he sat enthroned in state on the 
back of a mule, and the animal, for once realizing that 
bigger trouble was going on than he could produce, 
kept his heels still. 

It is no exaggeration to state that the Book of our 
village neighborhood was the Bible. The Sacred 
Oracles furnished the children with their stories. The 
youth stored away the Scripture system of truth as 
they said " the questions " of the Shorter Catechism 
on Saturday in the secular school. " Rouse's Version " 
of David's Psalms was the standard hymnology of 
Southwestern Pennsylvania during the earlier decades 
of the present century. The public service of the Sab- 

152 



Our Village Home 

bath over, the afternoon of God's holy day found each 
member of the family with the Word of God in hand. 
Consequently, when such a community congregated in 
the church, the preacher was in touch with the electrify- 
ing power of an intelligent audience. You would have 
searched in vain for the editor, whom the story locates 
at St. Louis, who, having by accident received in his 
morning mail some proof-sheets intended for the em- 
ployees of a religious publishing house, after glancing 
over them, rushed to the city editor, yelling, " Why 
in the world didn't you get a report of that big flood? 
Even that slow, old religious paper across the way is 
ahead of you. Send out your force for full particulars 
— only one family saved. Interview the old man. His 
name is Noah." 

The truth of history, however, demands the mention 
of that sui generis, the horse jockey. This individual 
kept the summer afternoons from being monotonous. 
He was as regular as a clock at every public gathering. 
A satisfactory explanation of his contracts was always 
on the end of his tongue, something like that of the 
following colloquy. " You told me, sir, that the horse 
was entirely without fault, and yet he is blind," said 
an irritated loser to the successful dealer, and was 
answered with the air of injured innocence: " I do not 
regard blindness as a fault, sir. It is a misfortune." 
More than one of our horse jockeys gave heed to the 
advice of a gentleman of color. " My advice to the 
Hoosier brudder am not to lie or deceive in tradin' 
mules, but to answer as few queshuns as he kin, and 
seem sort of keerless whether his offer am 'cepted or 
not." 

11 i53 



Our Village Home 

It must be confessed that our village neighborhood 
was rather litigious. My father was a justice of the 
peace, and the Saturday was lonesome which was not 
set down for a lawsuit. Many a purse was emptied by 
disputes about trifles. The two Abolitionists already 
mentioned, whom I shall call the Squire and Malachi, 
were the parties to one of the traditional lawsuits of 
the locality. The Squire's son Dan had a flock of 
ducks which, it was claimed, had been devoured by 
Malachi's old sow. Malachi brought suit for dam- 
ages. The case lasted for years, and ran the gauntlet 
of several courts and a board of arbitration. The 
most prominent lawyers of the Washington County 
Bar exhausted their knowledge of law and powers of 
eloquence in the issues involved, piling up the costs 
into the hundreds of dollars, and throwing the matter 
into such a condition of entanglement that the whole 
neighborhood was alive with the question: " Did the 
pig devour the ducks, or did the ducks eat the pig? " 

But I cannot erase from my memory the woe, the 
sorrow, the contentions, the babbling, the wounds 
without cause, the redness of eyes with which the 
demon of intemperance stamped his victims in our 
village neighborhood. In my boyhood days the bar- 
room of the village tavern was a village centre. The 
sot, the tippler, the dram drinker, the bitters'-taker, 
the get-up-early-in-the-morning thirst, gave it a con- 
tinual run of business. It did its work so thoroughly 
in the ruin of individuals, in the misery of families, in 
the waste of capabilities and opportunities, that I want 
no better temperance lecture than to walk through the 
old village graveyard, which the village bar-room has 

154 



Our Village Home 

sown so thickly with the drunkard's grave. And if in 
our village neighborhood it is the general rule in this 
year of grace for families to have, as old Ben Franklin 
puts it, " wood on the fire, meal in the barrel, flour in 
the tub, money in the purse, credit in the country, con- 
tentment in the house, clothes on the back, and vigor 
in the body," I believe that the reason is to be found in 
the fact that for the last thirty years there has not been 
a licensed bar or saloon in Our Village Home. I be- 
lieve, further, that our village neighborhood is a proof 
of the proposition that the best way to promote the 
growth of temperance is to foster and develop and 
enforce the temperance that there is in the laws that 
we have. Still further, I believe that our village neigh- 
borhood is a proof of the proposition that a community 
can be prepared for, and trained to, the practice and 
support of prohibition. 

As a matter of course, in such a survey as the fore- 
going, I have dwelt upon the impressible features of 
our village and its neighborhood. I have said nothing 
of that majority whose lives were so quiet and unevent- 
ful that their earthly history finds its model in the fifth 
chapter of the Book of Genesis, as in their case life 
is summed up in their birth, their families, and their 
death. But did they live in vain? Nay, verily. The 
average acquaintance with the Bible on the part of the 
community, the average parental training, warrant the 
following interpretation of their quiet lives: 

"In a valley, centuries ago, 
Grew a little fern leaf, green and slender, 
Veinings delicate and fibres tender, 

Waving when the winds crept down so low. 

"i55 ~ 



Our Village Home 

Rushes tall, and moss and grass grew round it ; 
Playful sunbeams darted in and found it ; 
Drops of dew stole down by night and crowned it ; 
But no foot of man e'er came that way — 
Earth was young and keeping holiday. 

"Useless? Lost? There came a thoughtful man 
Searching nature's secrets far and deep ! 
From a fissure in a rocky steep 

He withdrew a stone o'er which there ran 
Fairy pencillings, a quaint design, 
Leafage veining, fibres clear and fine, 
And the fern's life lay in every line. 
So I think God hides some souls away, 
Sweetly to surprise us the last day." 

And I expect to find many such surprises when, in 
the light of the resurrection morn, I meet the popula- 
tion of Our Village Home and its neighborhood. 

Our Village Holiday 

The principal holidays of Our Village Home were 
the battalion muster (commonly designated by the 
little children as the pcrtallion muster) and the Fourth 
of July. The people were too Scotch-Irish to attach 
any significance to Christmas. A New Year's call was 
a thing unheard of. Still, both Christmas and the 
New Year were recognized by big dinners and often 
by the traditional country ball. 

The battalion muster was signalized by the annual 
visit of the Brigade Inspector. The battalion stands 
out in line before my vision on the hill to the south 
of Our Village Home. Dutch Fork had sent forth its 

156 



Our Village Home 

train bands. The Wheeling Hills had contributed 
their legions. There were the West Finley Rifles, 
with their green-coated fifer and drummer, and I will 
never forget how they were wont to scream and beat 
" The Devil's Dream." There were " The Blues," of 
Our Village Home, with its military band of boys, 
marching to the strains of such tunes as " Rory 
O'More," " The Campbells are Coming," " Yankee 
Doodle," " St. Patrick's Day," and " The Girl I Left 
Behind Me." 

But that dress parade — that regimental line. So 
many uniformed and so many weaponed. Three 
streaks of regulation uniform at the right: " The Clays- 
ville Blues," "The West Finley Rifles," and "The 
Buffalo Artillery." Then followed a variegated mix- 
ture, made up of Sunday-go-to-meeting suits, war- 
muses, hunting shirts, and waistcoats whose color was 
relieved by the whiteness of the shirt sleeves. The 
variety of weapon was worthy the curiosity room of 
an arsenal. There were the army musket, the State 
rifle, the six-pounder, the bayonet, the artillery cutlass, 
the broadsword, the walking cane, the hickory shilla- 
lah, the alder stalk, and — memory fails me to tell of the 
other articles through which the yeomanry showed 
their ability to strike for their altars and their fires. 
The f}eld officers, in their array of plume and blue and 
tinsel, were simply stunning. 

The battalion muster was the set time for the pugi- 
listic encounters with which our ancestors usually ad- 
justed their differences. And we boys, following the 
example of our elders, when we opposed each other on 
the playground, found it oftentimes more convenient 

i57 



Our Village Home 

to say, " Just wait until the perlallion muster and I'll 
lick you." The " big muster " was also the day on 
which the man who only got drunk occasionally in- 
dulged himself. So that when evening came, there 
were several blackened eyes and staggering forms. 

I recall with a glad heart the old-time celebrations 
of the Fourth of July — the procession to the church, 
with the " Village Blues " as the escort, Cal King and 
Josiah Carroll, filers; James Noble and Aaron Patter- 
son, tenor; and Alexander Wallace and Marcus Dean, 
bass drummers. The exercises at the church! What 
an array of officers! President, vice-presidents, and 
secretaries. Sometimes there were present some old 
Revolutionary soldiers, who still " lingered on the 
shores of Time," as well as a more numerous company 
of the soldiers of the War of 1812, to occupy the seats 
of honor. Then came, first, the minister's prayer, 
then the reading of the Declaration of Independence, 
then the oration. Among the orators were the Hon. 
John H. Craig and the Hon. Sherrard Clemens, both 
bearing family names in our village neighborhood. 

From the church the procession returned to the 
village tavern. Turkey, roast beef, roast pig, pie, 
cake, and coffee were the usual constituents of the bill 
of fare afforded by the dinner. Then came the toasts: 
" The President of the United States." " The Gov- 
ernor of the Commonwealth." " The Heroes of the 
Mexican War." " The Ladies, God bless them." 

I believe in the celebration of the Fourth of July. 

I sincerely trust that " the old-fashioned Fourth " will 

never become so antiquated as to become distasteful to 

the American people. The God of nations has given 

158 



Our Village Home 

it a Scriptural warrant in the national festivals ordained 
in the Constitution of the Hebrew Commonwealth. 
The question of the Hebrew children: " What mean ye 
by this service?" suggests the information which the 
Fourth of July ought to give to the boys and girls of 
America. 

The foregoing picture gives the most prominence 
to The Village Blues. We thought it a grand 
spectacle to see them marching along the street with 
glittering flintlock muskets, blue coats, and white 
pants. By general consent they were the essential, the 
attractive constituent of every " big muster " and 
Fourth of July. One of my early recollections is the 
interest with which we looked for their return from 
the Pittsburgh Encampment. Then, too, under their 
auspices an encampment was held on the village out- 
skirts, which became an epoch in our domestic annals. 
I suppose that every boy turned out to help the 
" Blues " escort the visiting commands to the camp- 
ing-ground. This very moment I hear the roar, and 
see the smoke, and witness the charges of the Ten 
Mile Rangers, in the sham battle. I must confess 
that I have always liked the pomp rather than the 
circumstance of war. This is certainly an honest con- 
fession, for, as a little boy, I quivered and trembled as, 
at least a half mile away, I looked on that sham battle. 
Certainly on that day I could have gone beyond Ar- 
temas Ward. He was perfectly willing that all his 
wife's relatives should enlist. I could have added all 
my uncles, aunts, cousins, even the most distant of my 
kith and kin. 

There were several wearers of military titles in or 

159 



Our Village Home 

near Our Village Home. There was the venerable 
Col. Benjamin Anderson, who saw service in the War 
of 1812. His old age was the figure of a gentleman 
wearing a crown of glory. There was Major Joseph 
Bryant, who was a welcome visitor at the fireside, and 
sat in the company which was wont to gather about 
in the home or in the village store, with the dignity of 
an oracle. There was Major Irwin, a prince among 
neighbors, yet of unflinching fearlessness in the utter- 
ance and maintenance of his opinions. There was that 
magnificent personality, Captain Rider, who would 
spend many a pleasant evening instructing the little 
boys in the military manual; the legislator who, be- 
cause he was fifty years ahead of his neighbors, and 
voted that the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad should 
have the right of way through Washington County, 
Pennsylvania, was so shamefully treated by our vil- 
lagers that he left for the West, to become an honored 
citizen of the State of Iowa. There was the dignified 
Capt. Charles Cracraft, who impressed a boy as a 
master of the English language. There was Capt. 
James Anderson, whom the whole community recog- 
nized as the officer who was born, not made. 

I select for description but two of the eccentricities 

of our military organization. Jonathan had the 

reputation of being one of the most awkward creatures 
that ever wore a uniform or handled a gun. It would 
have struck a stranger as very singular that he should 
always march at the rear of the company. His sur- 
prise would have disappeared if he had known that 
Jonathan could scarcely go through the simplest 
manoeuvre of the manual of drill without threatening 

160 



Our Village Home 

to remove the headgear of every comrade within ten 
feet of him, or exposing him to bodily harm. The 
story went the rounds that he had been known to walk 
clear out of the ranks to fall over a stone or log lying 
by the wayside. Hence he was relegated to the rear, 
where he could have plenty of room, and, without en- 
dangering others, fall all around. 

Another member of the company was known as 

" ." The " Village Blues " were invited to 

accept the hospitalities of the military of Wheeling 
on a certain Fourth of July. Dinner was prepared at 
the McLure House, at which ice cream and water- 
melon were served as dessert. The ice cream was a 
revelation to our friend, and it struck him as one of the 
most delicious things that had ever passed his lips. It 
did not take him long to transfer the contents of the 
plate. The waiter, noticing its emptiness, politely in- 
quired if there was anything else he would have. 

" Yes," says " ," " you may give me another sasser 

of cold puddin' and another slice of watermillion if you 
have any more about the house." In the relation of 
his adventure at Wheeling, he observed that the din- 
ners at the McLure House were as good as the dinners 
that were given at a certain farmhouse when they had 
the threshing machine. 

Our Village School 

" Oh, were you ne'er a schoolboy ? " 

Then the reader will not wonder that the boys and 
girls of the past crowd out the scenes of the present. 
I have a distinct impression of my first teacher, James 

161 



Our Village Home 

Graham, but time has swept the incidents of his tute- 
lage from the tablet of memory. Another early in- 
structor, Simon Meredith, exhibited every phase of 
temper as the pendulum swung between the extremes 
of kindness and cruelty. He was followed by one of 
the most womanly women I ever knew, Miss Margaret 
K. Bell. She was succeeded by Dr. John McCall, an 
able teacher and a stern disciplinarian. The next di- 
rector of my studies was John P. Gamble, who took 
great pride in the progress of his scholars. In the fore- 
going list are to be included Thomas H. Atkinson and 
George Bright Birch. 

As I have pondered over my early school life I am 
convinced that my education was rather mechanical 
than thoughtful; that my teachers helped me in the 
wrong way; that I memorized rather than grasped; 
that I was not drilled in the art of expressing that 
which I really knew. 

But when I was in my fourteenth year, a teacher 
(James Ely) came who did all this, and the world of 
knowledge which spread out before me produced an 
enthusiasm and delight like that which made Colum- 
bus so glad when the New World first greeted his 
vision. 

As I write, my schoolmates emerge from the shades 
of the past, and I see sober Tommy Ritezel. My head 
touches that of Bill Humes, as together we hunt for the 
unknown in the problems of arithmetic and algebra. 
I study that combination of ability, kindness, and ill 
temper known as Aaron Scott. I listen to the oracular 
statements of Dan Miller. I feel, this moment, the 
depression of the loneliness which possessed my soul 

162 



Our Village Home 

when the Rider boys, George and Tom, went to Iowa; 
when the Kurtz boys, Ike, Morgan, Bill, and Tom, 
moved to Ohio. Who that ever knew Mark Dill will 
forget the appearance of a certain face when the good 
humor of his nature dissolved it into a grin? There 
was Bill Cracraft, whose speech found its analogy in 
the discharges of a Gatling gun. Jack Lloyd, in pluck 
and positiveness, was worthy to bear the name of Gen. 
Andrew Jackson. What a wide range of discussion 
filled the time which two boys, Nelse McNeal and my- 
self, took in our morning and evening walks to and 
from the cow pasture. Curious Sam Rickey; the Tom 
Nobles, known respectively as Squire's Tom and 
Becky's Tom; the Abercrombies, Chester, Ned, and 
Joe; the Gourleys, John and his brothers and cousins; 
the Mecrackens, Sam and John; the Warrells, Bob, 
Bill, and John; the McGills, Jim, Joe, and Sam; the 
Stewarts, Bill and Reed; the boy of affairs, Kep. 
Walker; companionable Jim Kerr, as it were, resurrect 
the old schoolhouse with its lessons and the old play- 
ground with its sports. 

And as I close this roll-call of memory with the 
names of Mary Mecracken, now in Denver; of Mary 
Miller, now in Indiana; of Margaret Jane Mealy and 
Mary Bell, now in Heaven, I once more bask " in the 
laughing light and life of childhood " ; I once more 
partake of " the gaiety that has known no check " ; I 
once more act " the frankness that has felt no chill " ; 
I once more indulge " the hope that has never with- 
ered " ; I once more realize " the joys that fade in 
blossoming." 

A marked change in text-books took place during 
163 



Our Village Home 

my school life. At its commencement the " New 
England Primer," with its pictures illustrating such 
couplets as 

" In Adam's fall 
We sinned all." 

"Youth forward slips 
Death soonest nips." 

" The British king 
Lost States thirteen " — 

gave the primary scholar the first lessons in history, 
theology, and patriotism. Lindley Murray's " Eng- 
lish Reader " and the " Western Calculator," with its 
pounds, shillings, and pence, were put into the hands 
of the more advanced scholars. We used to make the 
walls ring on the announcement, " Spelling Lessons," 
with the enunciation of the letters as Lyman Cobb and 
Salem Town arranged them into words. Our drill- 
books in the English language were Cobb's and Mc- 
Guffey's readers, McGuffey's being the more attrac- 
tive on account of the illustrations. Perhaps my 
schoolmates will remember the boy on the back of the 
St. Bernard dog in McGuffey's " Second Reader " ; 
the " Knowledge is Power," with the " ' I see, I see,' 
said the little man " in McGuffey's " Third Reader " ; 
the story of Inkle and Yarico in Cobb's " Fourth 
Reader " ; the " Vision of Mirza " and the play of 
" William Tell " in McGuffey's " Fourth Reader." I 
do not know that our schools have ever had better 
literature than the specimens which were gathered to- 
gether in our readers. 

One of my best text-books was Parker's " Progres- 
164 



Our Village Home 

sive Exercises in English Composition." It taught us 
to tell what we thought. Greenleaf's " Arithmetic " 
gave me the best idea of figures. Davies' " Algebra " 
initiated us into the unknown of the x. Smith gave us 
the parts of grammar. 

There was a sad lack of uniformity in our text-books. 
The schools were not graded. Instruction, for the 
greater part, was individual. 

School government in the days of our youth recog- 
nized corporal punishment as the rule rather than the 
exception. It was generally understood that if the 
schoolmaster did not thrash the big boys, those young 
gentlemen would assume the control of the school- 
master. Indeed, the teacher felt that until this ques- 
tion was settled his school was not in full operation. 
I am aware that the general crusade against corporal 
punishment has been successful. Yet I will risk call- 
ing attention to the following from that great medical 
authority, the London Lancet: 

SCHOOL CHASTISEMENTS 

" Some grown persons would seem to think that there is no 
true place for chastisement in a system of education. Such, at 
all events, is our impression of those, and there are many par- 
ents among them, who regard an ordinary beating given in 
school as almost an indictable form of assault. People of this 
kind have evidently forgotten the singularities of their own 
wayward youth, or perhaps their lives knew only a genial and 
untroubled springtime of good conduct. In neither case can 
their judgment be relied upon to form a rule of discipline for 
the guidance of school teachers. The bad boy will continue 
to deserve, and to repay with better behavior, his needful 
thrashings, and even the good boy will sometimes err and will 

165 



Our Village Home 

profit by corporal reproofs. The truth about physical punish- 
ment, we may take it, is that it is indispensable — an evil, per- 
haps, but a necessary one. It must be borne, but in order to 
attain success with the least possible amount of injurious fric- 
tion, it must also be regulated. There must be no impulsive 
pulling about, no random strokes with the hand or the ruler, no 
ear-boxing with its probable sequel — the ruptured tympanum. 
The head should never be struck, not even slapped. We may 
say the same of the body, but for one most tender but safely 
padded prominence which appears to mark the naturally 
appointed seat of childish affliction. We need hardly empha- 
size the importance of guarding jealously against all displays 
of temper while inflicting punishment. No doubt this is diffi- 
cult with refractory children, but such a degree of self-govern- 
ment as will enable parents or teachers to avoid the angry 
moment is nevertheless requisite for success. A case occurred 
lately which illustrates this point. It was that of a boy who 
was beaten about the back and hand the day following a school 
misdemeanor. Singularly enough, he injured his head next 
day, and being at the time in poor health, though believed to 
be well, died in a week from tubercular meningitis. At once 
his teacher was blamed, but proof being brought that the 
chastisement inflicted , was deliberate, orderly, and propor- 
tionate, though the means employed were not quite regular, 
he was entirely exonerated at a subsequent inquest. It would, 
indeed, in many cases render the duties of a schoolmaster as 
barren as difficult if he were not allowed a reasonable freedom 
in physical correction. The possible occurrence of such inci- 
dents as the above must, however, impress what we have said 
as to method in its application." 

A popular feature of our village school was the 
examination and exhibition at the end of the term. A 
stage was erected. The seat of honor was occupied 
by the school directors of the district. There was not 
standing room left for any who endeavored to push 

166 



Our Village Home 

their way into the crowd which thronged the building. 
Music, declamation, dialogue, and essay, serious and 
humorous, relieved the monotony of the examination. 

But our village schoolhouse was also the scene of 
amateur theatricals, which were disguised by the name 
of exhibition. Those performances cover the extent 
of my attendance at the theatre. The favorite plays 
were " Richard the Third " and " William Tell." For 
weeks previous to their occurrence these exhibitions 
were the talk of every household. I remember two of 
the members of the orchestra, which varied in size, but 
was generally confined to John Hoon and Thaddeus 
C. Noble, as they played on the clarionet. The 
former became a Presbyterian elder, and the latter was 
well known in the political, commercial, and religious 
circles of Washington County. A friend has told me 
that, although this orchestra was often encored, its 
music, in this later day of the world, would set your 
teeth on edge and make your hair stand straight out. 
The person, Dick Lamborn, who represented Richard 
the Third was a consummate actor. Billy Ritezel, 
who appeared as Queen Margaret, has been a printer, 
newspaper editor, and publisher in Washington 
County, and editor in and legislator of the State of 
Ohio. 

The closing performance of these exhibitions was 
an impersonation of our colored brethren. Alfred 
Prowitt, who was the " white man " who made him- 
self the " nigger minstrel " of the occasion, died at a 
good old age a short time since. How he could sing 
"Dandy Jim," "Coal Black Rose," and "Gumbo 
Chaff " ! 

167 



Our Village Home 

The schoolhouse yard furnished ample space for the 
sports of childhood. We played " town-hall," " alley- 
ball," " corner-ball," and " cat-ball," " prisoners' base," 
and " hunt the horn." We had our repertoire of those 
quaint doggerels known as counting out rhymes, such 
as 

I 

" Onery, twoery, Ickory Ann, 
Filison, Folison, Nicholas, John ; 
Queebie, Quawbie, English Mary, 
Stringelum, Strangelum, Buck. 

II 

" Onery Urey, Ickory Avey, 
Halibout, Crackabout, Tamboavey, 
Mingo, Mango, Merry go Me, 
Humbly, Bumbly, Ninety-three. 

Ill 

" Hayley, Mayley, Chickenny, Chaw, 
Heepy, Peepy, Craney, Aw." 

In the early period of my attendance at our village 
school its curriculum was mostly confined to the three 
R's. It was never widened so far as to embrace Ger- 
man, French, etc. I smypathize with those who be- 
lieve that but one language ought to prevail in the 
American common school, and that language is the 
English. There ought to be no such thing as a 
German-American. There always will be, however, as 
long as the encouragement is given to the difference 
of tongues among the people. The fact ought to be 
everywhere as a Michigan man is said to have put it: 

168 



Our Village Home 

" I don't believe in this learning German, Spanish, 
French, or any foreign language. Why, I lived among 
a lot of Germans and got along with them just as well 
as if I had known their language; but I didn't, not a 
word of it." 

On being asked, " How did you contrive it? " he re- 
plied: " Why, you see, they understood mine." 

An amusing phase of this idea is presented in the 
following: A German enters a restaurant. An Irish 
waiter greets him with " Good morning! " " Wie 
gehtes? " answers the German. "Wheat cakes!" shouts 
the Irishman to the kitchen. " Nein, nein! " protests 
the German. To which the Irishman responds, " Faith, 
and you'll be lucky if you get three." 

All hail the common school! Rejected be the 
thought, paralyzed be the effort, overthrown be the 
church that would hinder, cripple, pervert, sectarianize, 
destroy the common school. We cannot do without 
this means of the general education of the people. 
Without this fulcrum of rational freedom our Republic 
is a failure. 

Our Village Church 

In the present paper it is proposed to present the 
church of Our Village Home after the manner of a 
composite picture, as we consider it in its interdenomi- 
national aspect rather than in its particular phase of 
Christian life and doctrine. 

The Presbyterian house of worship was the prin- 
cipal building of Our Village Home. The beauty of 
its location served to render one less sensitive to the 
12 169 



Our Village Home 

plainness of its architecture. The congregation which 
gathered within its walls embraced the main portion of 
the community. Its history is the registry of the in- 
crease which God has given to the planting of Thomas 
Hoge, and to the watering of Peter Hassinger, John 
Knox, William Wright, George Gordon, John Mil- 
ler, David McConaughey, Nicholas Murray, Alex- 
ander McCarrell, James L. Leeper, and Frank Fish. 
And as I think of the three generations which have 
worshipped in that church; of the sons of Levi who 
have gone forth from those family pews to serve God 
in the Gospel ministry; of the praises, the prayers, the 
sermons, the communions, the Sunday-school ses- 
sions, the singing schools, the revivals, which made 
the Presbyterian meeting-house of Our Village Home 
the house of God and the gate of Heaven — I feel that 
the ideal is the logical consequent of the real when I 
affirm that the venerable pile is a monument whose 
proper inscription is, " Be thou faithful unto death, and 
I will give thee a crown of life." 

At the west end of Our Village Home there stood 
the church home of a little band of the disciples of 
John Wesley. Its exhibition of the consecration and 
zeal of the noble founder of Methodism caused the 
venerable men, godly women, and stalwart Christians 
who made the quarterly meeting the event of the year, 
to be a power for good in the community. Its roll of 
ministers is an honorable one. I have a dim recollec- 
tion of Rev. Mr. McCaskey. Among my first im- 
pressions of the power of personal presence in a 
preacher, one was derived from a little boy's view of 
the famous presiding elder, Battelle. The utterances 

170 



Our Village Home 

of Father Hudson, that old man eloquent, are still ring- 
ing in my ear. To look upon the venerable Father 
Hudson was to feel that you were before a man of 
God. The time would fail me to tell of Messrs. Deeves, 
Dempsey, Pugh, McGuire, Turner, Morrison, Boyle, 
and others forgotten here, but not forgotten in God's 
book of remembrance. 

As I write, the congregation rises before me, the 
males on one side of the house and the females on the 
other, and Father Noble and Father Milligan are in 
the Amen corner; that miracle of grace, John Zinn, is 
shouting " Hallelujah " ; James and Samson Patterson 
are holding to Christ in true Methodist fashion; that 
man of affairs, Samuel D. Rickey, is walking with the 
God who took him to Heaven, and sweet-tempered 
Phillip Sliffe is singing the songs of Zion. 

Several families of Our Village Home worshipped 
God in the Associate Church of South Buffalo. This 
church represented the " straitest sect of the Presby- 
terians " in our community. They praised God in 
Rouse's version of the Psalms of David. They were 
averse to occasional hearing. Their religious services 
were somewhat protracted. They observed the Thurs- 
day fast-day. They reverenced the holy Sabbath. 

The South Buffalo pulpit was filled by able men. 
" I always bowed in reverence before the good, grey 
head " of Rev. David French, whose name was a 
household word throughout the region during my 
childhood. As long as he lived, the church customs 
of the olden time were faithfully observed. Once I 
heard him fencing the tables on a communion occa- 
sion. He certainly proved that no one ought to sit 

171 



Our Village Home 

down at the Lord's Table who was not on the right side 
of the Ten Commandments. After Mr. French came 
that fearless advocate of truth, that well-instructed 
scribe, that genial companion, Rev. Dr. James Carson. 
He was followed by the Rev. Alexander McLachlan, 
under whose pastorate the meeting-house at South 
Buffalo has been exchanged for the most beautiful 
church in Our Village Home. 

The South Buffalo Church emphasized the family- 
idea of the church. The names of Brownlee, Carson, 
Crothers, Graham, Grimes, Knox, McMillen, McNeal, 
Milligan, Ralston, Sawhill, reminded one of the fami- 
lies which clustered around the Tabernacle of the Wil- 
derness. 

But the rush of past recollections brings to view a 
little church which stood on a hill a few miles to the 
southward from Our Village Home. On that spot, 
for nearly a century, the denomination with which 
Peter Otterbein has linked his name has lifted the 
banner of the cross. During my boyhood it was noted 
for exhibitions of the phenomena of the old-time re- 
ligious revival. The personality most prominently 
identified with the history of the Zion Church of the 
United Brethren in Christ was known by young and 
old as Joshua Stoolfire. As a type of the emotional 
in religion, he was a marked instance. As I think 
of the times that Heaven came to him in the little 
church, the Zion of Dutch Fork transforms itself into 
the Mount Zion of the Book of Revelation, and the 
voice of Joshua Stoolfire helps to swell the sound of 
many waters which ascends to the Lamb that was 
slain. 

172 



Our Village Home 

Thus the Presbyterian, the United Presbyterian, the 
Methodist, and the United Brethren churches were 
the one Church of the Living God of Our Village 
Home. " The unity of Christians," it has been well 
said, " is not found in formality, in credal expression, 
in propositional theology, in ecclesiastical arrange- 
ment; down in the centre of the heart, in a place un- 
touched, so to say, by human fingers, their lies the 
common organic nerve that unites Christendom in its 
worship and its hope." 

And now I can only express my feeling concerning 
Our Village Home by the accommodation of the 
thought with which old Bishop Home closed his 
" Meditations on the Psalms " : " Happier hours than 
those which I spent amid its scenes I never expect to 
see in this world. Very pleasantly did they pass, and 
they moved smoothly and swiftly along." 

It is sweet to have the Present smile upon us. We 
look forward into the Future with all the charms of an- 
ticipation. As we look back at Our Village Home of 
the Past, " while our tears fall upon her," do we not 
at least " dream that she smiles just as she did of yore"? 
As the years roll by is not that Past dearer still? This 
is natural, for 

" N Who that recollects young years and loves, 
Though hoary now, and with a withering breast, 
And palsied fancy which no longer roves 
Beyond its dimmed eye's sphere, 
But would much rather sigh like his son 
Than cough like his grandfather ? " 

O thou spot in which our spirit dwelt beneath the 
i73 



Our Village Home 

glorious dawning of life! beloved world of boyhood! 
Though round and round thy boundaries the pigeons 
could fly in five minutes; though the martens, as they 
wheeled around the signboard box, described a circle 
which took in the surrounding forests, there is not 
in all the earth such an interchange of woods and 
meadows, glens, dells, and rocks; such living beings as 
those with which memory peoples our infancy and boy- 
hood, whose voices, laughter, eyes, forehead, hands so 
often grasped, arms linked in arms, have become 
scarcely more than images and echoes. And I set 
the strains of my heart to Christopher North's music 
as I say: " Melancholy and not mirth doth he hope to 
find who, after a life of wandering, and maybe not with- 
out sorrow, comes back on the places and homes 
wherein to his eyes once grew the flowers of Paradise." 
Flowers of Paradise are ye still; for praise be to God 
the sense of the old home is still strong within us, and, 
methinks, we could feel the beauty of the scene though 
our heart were broken. 



174 



Appendix 



Appendix 

The Genesis of Claysville 

I am indebted to the Claysville Recorder of Novem- 
ber 17, 1897, for the following article: 

A TRAMP PRINTER. 

Samuel Haslett is the name given by a tramp printer 
Who sauntered into the Recorder office last week. 
Sixty summers and more he had seen, for he has been 
a printer for nearly fifty years, and had only recently 
come from the Pacific coast. He was clothed in a 
rough suit and wore long iron gray hair and beard, 
and in his prime must have been a man of striking 
appearance. 

But the curious part of his appearance here — his 
first visit — it will be interesting to note, is that 100 
years ago his grandfather, John Purviance, owned all 
the land that Claysville is built upon. He said one 
of Purviance's daughters was now living in Butler 
County, and is past ninety years of age. 

Looking up a little history we find that Claysville 
is a part of a tract of land taken up by Thomas Waller 
on a Pennsylvania warrant dated February 25, 1775, 
and surveyed the second day of the following April 

177 



Appendix 

as " Superfine Bottom." It adjoined the Robert 
Walker tract of 420 acres taken up by a Virginia cer- 
tificate dated January, 1780, that of Robert Henry and 
other lands of Thomas Waller. The " Superfine Bot- 
tom," which embraces the site of Claysville, was 
passed by transfer to John Purviance. The old 
Wheeling road was opened through it. By this road, 
not long after the year 1800, Purviance opened a tav- 
ern in a large two-story log house having three rooms 
on the lower floor and four on the upper floor. This 
house stood on the lot now owned by Thomas Griffith 
and occupied by D. K. Irwin, landlord of the Bell 
House. Purviance had been keeping tavern a num- 
ber of years when the preliminary survey was made 
for the great National Road from Wheeling to Cum- 
berland. When it became certain by the final surveys 
for location made under Col. Eli Williams, that the 
route of the road would pass his house, Purviance 
promptly surveyed and laid out a prospective town. 
He was a believer in the use of printer's ink and ad- 
vertised in the Washington Reporter. The issue of 
April 21, 1817, contained this advertisement: 

Claysville. — The subscriber having laid off a number of 
building lots in the new town of Claysville, will offer the same 
at public sale on the premises, on Thursday, the eighth day 
of May next. Lots will be sold agreeably to a plan or plot 
exhibited on the day of sale. 

Claysville is distant ten miles from Washington westward, 
and about eighteen east of Wheeling and six from Alexandria 
(West Alexander). The Great National Road from Cumber- 
land to Wheeling, as located by Colonel Williams and con- 
firmed by the President and now rapidly progressing toward 
its completion, passes directly through the town. The lots 

178 



Appendix 

contain a front of fifty feet on the road and a depth back of 
two hundred feet, with suitable and convenient avenues to 
each block of lots. The " scite " of the town is beautiful, well- 
watered, a fertile country around it and a good population. 
To persons who may purchase and improve the present sea- 
son, the subscriber will give timber for any frame building 
that may be put without price. On the day of sale the terms 
of credit will be made known. 

John Purviance. 

The first house built on the site of Claysville after it 
was laid out by Purviance was erected by Simon Shurr 
on property now owned by the Claysville Real Estate 
Company, where the First National Bank now stands. 
Following were houses built by a Mr. Miller and one 
by Wm. Brownlee, a tailor, now occupied by W. R. 
Jones and John Denormandie. 

This tramp printer's grandfather also gave the lot 
on which the first schoolhouse and the old Presby- 
terian Church in this place were built, $225.50 being 
subscribed to erect a school building. He is also said 
to have donated the old cemetery lot. 



In 1835-36, John Birch was the tax collector, and 
William Milligan the town clerk, of the Borough of 
Claysville. The following names appear on the tax 
list: 

James Armstrong, George Aston, John Barr, 
Thomas Anderson, William Brownlee, John Brock- 
man, Andrew Bell, Joseph Bryant, Abraham Brewer, 
John Birch, Moses Bell, Basil Brown, Alexander 
Chapman, Uriah Clarke, Lawrence Coffield, Eckart 
Carrol, Samuel Cooper, Samuel Gamble, Aquila Gar- 
retson, John Garret, Henry Giger, James Graham, 

179 



Appendix 

William Humes, Joshua Howard, James Harvey, 
Sarah Hartzel, Joseph Henderson, Esq., Inggling 
(sign maker), Henry Jamison, Lewis Jones, Dr. James 
P. Kerr, Charles Knight, Hester Kurtz, John Kelly, 
Daniel Kurtz, William Knox, Thomas Knox, Joel 
Lamborn, William Milligan, Thomas Miller, Esq., 
John Marshall, Robert McNeal, Thomas McGiffin, 
Esq., John McCracken, Joseph McCracken, William 
Moor, Jonas Mills, Lemon McCarrell, James Noble, 
William Porter, John Patterson, David Richey, John 
Ritzell, Daniel Rider, Susanna Ralston, James 
Shanon, Simon Shur, Mathias Snyder, James Sawhill, 
JT-riiesdeLTs (estate), Thomas Williams, Mrs. Vansickle, 
Robert Woods, George Wyth, Alexander White, 
James Wallace, George Wilson, William Jones. 

The order with reference to delinquents, was that 
" in case goods and chattels cannot be found suffi- 
cient to satisfy the same (tax) with costs, you are 
authorized to take the body of such delinquent and 
convey him to the jail of this county, there to remain 
until the taxes with costs be paid, or secured to be 
paid, or otherwise discharged by due course of law." 

Extract from the records of the Sunday-school, 

1847: 
Officer: Rev. Alexander McCarrell, Superintendent. 
Managers: John Birch, S. D. Rickey, James Noble. 

Classes 
boys 
1. Teacher: W. Darby. 

Scholars: G. Hair, Morgan Kurtz, Joseph Noble, 

180 



Appendix 

W. Kurtz, Jackson Loyd, James McCay, K. Walker, 
John Moore, J. Abercrombie. 

2. Teacher: J. Patterson. 

Scholars: James Noble, David Marshall, F. A. 
Birch, C. Haskinson, John Mills, J. Denormandie, 
George Cracraft. 

3. Teacher: W. McCarriher. 

Scholars: George A'lcCay, William Craig, George 
McCarriher, Robert Mitchell, Joseph Craig. 

4. Teacher: T. C. Noble. 

Scholars: G. W. F. Birch, William Humes, Thos. 
Ritzel, Aaron Scott, Daniel Miller, George Rider, 
Isaac Kurtz. 

5. Teacher: Alexander K. Craig. 

Scholars: George Miller, Wm. Wallace, Samuel 
Rickey, Martin Moore, Thomas Noble, 1st, Thomas 
Noble, 2d, William Stewart, Joseph McKee. 

GIRLS 

1. Teacher: Margaret McCaskey. 

Scholars: Mary McCracken, M. J. Mealy, Nancy 
Miller, M. A. Moore, Anna M. Rider, Mary Bell, 
Hester Meloy, Mary Meloy. 

2. Teacher: Sarah McLain. 

Scholars: N. C. Mounts, Deborah Russell, R. Anne 
Scott, Mary Jane Scott, Mary E. Curry, Hannah R. 
Craig, Mary Anderson. 

3. Teacher: Nancy McLain. 

Scholars: Harriet Campsey, Susan Campsey, S. 
Ligget, M. Mills, M. Campsey, E. Campsey, H. 
Blythe. 

1S1 



Appendix 

4. Teacher: F. Alexander. 

Scholars: E. Nease, Julia A. Mealy, Frances Mc- 
Kce, Frances Loyd, Mary A. Miller, Eliza Mills, C. 
Ligget, E. Cracraft, C. Mcllvaine, Ann E. Aber- 
crombie. 

BIBLE CLASS 

Teacher: Rev. Alexander McCarrell. 

Members: John McLain, William R. Walker, M. 
McCarrell, Hugh Craig, Thomas Atkinson, Findley 
Robinson, Joseph McLain, M. H. Dean, T. S. Irwin, 
Calvin King, M. L. Stilhvagen, D. C. Cracraft. 

Sarah McLain, Miss Campsey, M. J. Rider, S. Rob- 
inson, Mary A. Ritezel, Margaret Anderson, Rachel 
Warrell, M. A. Noble, M. J. Humes, Hannah Mc- 
Cracken, Rebecca Henderson, Margaret A. Craig, 
Sarah Warrell, Mehitable Noble, Mary McLain, 
Susan Humes, Charlotte George, Frances George. 

The following scholars received Testaments as a 
reward for memorizing the Scriptures : 

Verses. Verses. 

Thomas Ritzel 323 George W. F. Birch. . . 350 

Mary Bye rs 1,027 Mary Alexander 253 

Mary E. Curry 456 M. A. Moore 260 

J. Craig 456 Mary Bell 265 

W. Craig 360 George McCay 350 

James Woods 351 Margaret Hall 268 

Susannah Ralston 350 Margaret J. Mealy 262 

Harriet Campsey 350 Emma Tjano 253 

Mary Meloy 265 Margaret Campsey. .. . 250 

Extract from the report of the gentleman wlio had 
182 



Appendix 

charge of the Claysville School during the year 1844. 
We give it without any alteration in the way of correc- 
tion. 



Names of Scholars. Age. 

Jno. Humes 12 

M. Lamborn 15 

C. Garrotson 14 

E. Dickinson 13 

Thos. Kerr 14 

Wm. Ritzel 14 

D. Callohan 15 

C. King 15 

Matilda Lamborn 11 

M. Ritzel 11 

M. J. Rider 11 

Jack Lamborn 17 

Jno. Kerr 1 1 

Jno. Noble 12 

C. Anderson 16 

M. Noble 17 

J. McNeal 17 

Jas. McNeal 15 

Sam. Henderson 15 

Wilm. McConahey 16 

Isaac Kurtz 10 

David McConahey 11 

James Kerr 10 

Thos. Ashbrook 12 

Nelson McNeal 10 

Lemon Shannon 10 

Geo. Rider 10 

Wilm. Humes 10 

M. Walker 11 

James Anderson 21 

Will. Anderson 14 



Names of Scholars. Age. 

S. Lindley 20 

M. Ashbrook 15 

E. Ashbrook 11 

M. Ashbrook 9 

M. McNeal 7 

Wm. Dennison 12 

Jam. Dennison 10 

Jno. Dennison 6 

Jane Dennison 8 

M. Kerr 7 

A. M. Rider 8 

Jas. Woods 10 

Jno. Woods 8 

Jane Anderson 13 

Jno. Worrell 11 

S. Worrell 14 

C. Humes 13 

E. Meredith 13 

H. McCracken 15 

L. Cooper 16 

Sam. McCracken 15 

Jno. McCracken 10 

M. McCracken 7 

Jas. Noble 12 

Jos. Noble 8 

Thomas Noble 9 

Mahe. Noble 13 

M. J. Noble 13 

N. M. Walker 12 

Thos. Ritzel 10 

Ann Gourley 9 



183 



Appendix 



Names of Scholars. Age. 

M. Kurtz 7 

W. Kurtz 6 

Wm. Woods 6 

M. Dille 12 

M. J. McConahey 6 

Hen. Gourley 8 

Rob. Gourley 1 1 

Jno. Gourley 5 

Jas. McCay 5 

Geo. McCay 7 

Deb. Russel 10 

R. Milligan 16 

T. Russel 9 

R. Wells 17 

J. Wells 15 

Thos. Dougherty 12 

Jas. McConahey 12 

Jane McConahey 1 1 

McConahey 7 

Aa. Scott 12 

R.Scott '.... 8 

W. Worrell 16 

Bright Birch 18 

J. Mills 9 

M. A. Bennett 9 

S. McDonald 17 

Joe. McCracken 10 

Jos. McKee 7 



Names of Scholars. Age. 

D. Miller 7 

M. Miller 6 

George Birch 6 

Jos. White 9 

J. Lloyd 7 

F.Lloyd 6 

C. Coler 7 

O. Tiffany 6 

S. Ligget 7 

Jno. Ligget 9 

L'ggett 5 

Har. McDonald 11 

R. Newlan 8 

M. Bell 7 

R. Meredith 8 

M. Shannon 14 

Thos. Rider 5 

Mary Anderson 12 

M. J. Mealy 6 

J. Peek 12 

A. Peek 9 

Fran. McKee 6 

S. Sprout 7 

Syl. Sprout 8 

C. Humes 6 

Wil. Kerr 6 

S. M. McKee 8 



The foregoing report contains a comment on each 
scholar, such as the following: 

"An extraordinary boy; very attentive, and has 
made progress that riper years might envy." — " A 
very good boy, and has made excellent progress." — 
" A very studious girl." — " Has improved very much." 

184 



Appendix 

" More attention would be desirable; too fond of 
writing." — " Would learn if he would." — " Learns 
very well, but he is ihard to keep at it." — " A good boy, 
but hard to keep at his books." — " An extraordinary 
boy to learn figures." — "Industrious." — "Learns well; 
came very irregularly." — "Learns very well; an ex- 
traordinary boy; an excellent speller off the book." — 
"Smart boy; learns well; mischievous." — "When at 
school, learns." — " Learns well, but is fond of quar- 
relling 1 ." 



Remarks of Joel Truesdell,* 
West Alexander, Penn. 

It affords me a great deal of pleasure to be with 
you on this anniversary occasion. My memory car- 
ries me back nearly sixty years at least. I believe 
that I am the oldest person now living in this vicinity 
who was born in Claysville — this church being but two 
years older than myself. I remember some of the 
first members of this church, the first elders and their 
successors to the present time. I remember Rev. 
Thomas Hoge very well; heard him preach when I 
was a boy not more than six years old. 

The first church building, as you are all aware, was a 
very plain one. Many of the seats were without backs, 
and the pulpit was unpainted. I attended the Sunday- 
school in this old building at a very early age. The 

*The copy for this interesting address was received too late 
for proper classification. 

13 185 



Appendix 

late Joseph Donahcy led the singing. His father was, 
perhaps, the superintendent; at any rate he was present 
in some capacity. We recited Scripture and received 
blue and red tickets — for ten blue tickets we received 
a red one. 

I remember when the bricks for the present building 
were made. My father had the contract for building 
it, as Dr. Birch has told you — and just now I want 
to thank him for the tribute he has paid him, which 
I know he deserved. Thomas Gourley made the 
bricks on the lot north of the alley running east and 
west. This lot is on what now constitutes the new 
extension. I think the kiln was located on the pres- 
ent Greene Street. I remember — while this kiln of 
brick was being made — of going out to Mr. Gourley's 
and staying all night. After supper I was put to bed 
with one of the boys and slept the sleep of the just. 
Many of you may remember the humble log house 
in which Mr. G. lived. The older members of this 
church will remember that slaves bought in Virginia 
and Maryland were taken through this region to the 
South for sale. When a young boy, as I remember, 
I heard of two slaves who were handcuffed together 
and who had made their escape. The story was told 
that Mr. Gourley saw them, broke their handcuffs and 
sent them on their way to liberty. I believe this to be 
true as I have never heard it contradicted. A reward 
that had been offered was no inducement to Mr. 
Gourley to assist in their return. These scenes are 
happily no more witnessed. 

Dr. Birch received to-day a letter from Mrs. B. F. 

186 



Appendix 

Jones, of Pittsburgh, which I now read to you. The 
Jones family was one of the early families of Claysville. 
B. F. Jones will be remembered as the Chairman of 
the National Committee during the campaign when 
Mr. Blaine was a candidate for President. The Jones 
family and that of my father were always on the most 
intimate terms. Jacob Jones, the father, lived to be 
over ninety years of age, his wife having died some 
years before. Of seven sons of Jacob Jones only two 
are now living — General G. A. Jones, of Mount 
Vernon, O., and B. F. Jones, of Pittsburgh, before 
mentioned. Mrs. Frazier, the oldest daughter, is liv- 
ing at Beaver, Penn., and perhaps other daughters are 
living. 

I will omit saying anything about the successors of 
Mr. Hoge, as Dr. Birch has told you all that I know. 
I have heard them all preach. 

I note with pleasure the many young people of this 
church who have taken an active part in making this 
anniversary a success. Two generations have passed 
away during my remembrance, and the mantles of the 
departed ones must rest on your shoulders. And may 
God give you grace to perform your duty in such a 
manner as will redound to His glory and the good of 
the church. I may say of this church that I have 
known it in adversity and in prosperity. I believe that 
God has always been with you and is still with you, 
and if you are faithful in duty to Him, He will abide 
with you unto the end. 

And now my prayer is that " Peace may be within 
your walls and prosperity within your palaces." " That 
your sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; 

187 



Appendix 

that your daughters may be as corner stones polished 
after the similitude of a palace; and that you may al- 
ways be that people whose God is the Lord." 



Keithsburg, Mercer County, III. 

September 19, 1895. 

Messrs. Irwin, T. B. Craig, Sr., T. G. Noble, and 
others, Committee of Invitation. 

Claysville, Washington Co., Penn. 

My dear Brethren: — Your kind invitation to your 
anniversary occasion received. In response would say 
that it would afford me supreme delight to be present 
with you, and bear some humble part by presence and 
word, in your festivities in planting the seventy-fifth 
milestone in the pathway of the grand old church by 
which the loving Master has led you, " lo, these many 
years," but absence from home, the long interval of 
distance, expense, and the pressure of business and 
work in this, my new and only field of missionary 
labor (having recently come on the field), deny me, 
at this time, a pleasure, under other circumstances, I 
should certainly enjoy. 

As memory recalls the past, what hallowed asso- 
ciations! what signal manifestations of the Divine! 
what greetings and friendships! what influences 
spiritual! what godly men in pulpit and home and 
citizenship! what children, trained in the nurture and 
admonition of the Lord, witness to the Christian 

188 



Appendix 

character of the household the fathers and mothers 
who have so faithfully carried out their vows and 
covenants with God in the history of Washington 
County Presbyterianism ! Of the Rev. Thomas Hoge, 
who filled your pulpit as the first pastor for fifteen 
years, and Rev. Peter Hassinger, who succeeded him 
for four years, I had no particular knowledge. The 
historic is all I know in reading; but with the sainted 
McCarrell, who served your church for thirty-five 
years, I had the most pleasant relationships in Presby- 
tery, in interchanges of communion service, and fellow- 
ship and in his own home, of precious and endeared 
memory. What a grand man he was socially! Con- 
tact with him was enchantment, delight; he seemed to 
lose himself in making others happy. As a minister, 
while he honorably carried his " D.D.," there was no 
walking on ecclesiastical stilts; his character, while 
sacrificing naught of principle, was of the " circulat- 
ing " order: it showed best among the people with 
whom he was ever in living contact; he always had a 
" Good morning " or a " How do you do? " for the 
non-churchgoer and the unsaved. His sermons were 
studied and preached in prayer and the richness of 
the Gospel of Christ. His prayers — as I have listened 
to them — seemed to be an unction from the Spirit. I 
shall never forget a prayer of his, at the close of a 
sacramental season, when, with the tears coursing over 
his cheeks, he pleaded with God for those who had 
again refused " to do this in remembrance of me." 
Those seed-sowings beside all waters have not been 
lost; his tears have been put into God's bottle, and his 
works follow him, while he has entered his rest with 

189 



Appendix 

Eagleson, Stockton, Marquis, and Greer, of the old 
Presbytery of Washington. 

I should love to hear the addresses of the brethren 
at your anniversary. Their names certify their interest 
and character, especially of the sons of the church. 
May not their orthodoxy on the lines of a German 
rationalism and biblical inerrancy have its parentage 
in a godly training in church and homes around Clays- 
ville? When I would write of the eldership my eyes 
fill with tears, for tender, sundered ties are touched, and 
the recollections of years now past crowd themselves 
upon me. Oh! what names! what characters! rise up 
before me: Henderson, Craig, Noble, McKee, Mc- 
Lain, Sawhill, and others whom I might name. What 
witnesses for Christ in a devoted eldership ! The church 
having such Aarons and Hurs to uphold the hands 
of the pastor must " go forward." You may find men 
with more pomp and finish, and much of it too, like our 
Sabbath day clothes put on for the time, but better men 
called to the work and willing to work never honored 
their calling as elders than those in Claysville Church 
and others in the churches of the old Presbytery. 

Of the remaining I must not speak at length. I 
remember many of them (some of them associated with 
that " big turkey arrangement ") (ask Jonathan about 
this?), good Christian men. I honor their memories 
— and your noble women. God bless them! Any- 
thing I might say could not increase their good name. 
I wish you to see that old patriarch, Hon. John Birch; 
give him a good Presbyterian shake for me and my 
kindest greetings; remember me to the many friends 
in Claysville and surroundings. In concluding this 

190 



Appendix 

already too long epistle, I want to unite with you in 
thanksgiving to God for all His tender mercies shown. 
I congratulate Bro. Fish, his session, and member- 
ship upon the God-given success and prosperity of the 
church in the past, in the present. As verified by the 
past, let the Davidic sentiment be your inspiration 
in the years to come: "Walk about Zion, and go 
round about her: tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well 
her bulwarks, consider her palaces ; that ye may tell it 
to the generation following. For this God is our God 
for ever and ever: he will be our guide even unto 
death " (Ps. xlviii. 12-14). 

Fraternally yours in X, 

J. D. Walkinshaw. 

The Invitation and Programme 

You are cordially invited to attend the Seventy-fifth or Dia- 
mond Anniversary of the Presbyterian Church, at Claysville, 
on Friday, September 20, 1895, when we will commemorate 
the organization of our church, revive old and pleasant mem- 
ories and the early struggles of a church which has been so 

richly blessed of God. 

W. A. IRWIN, 

T. B. CRAIG, SR., 

T. G. NOBLE, 

W. J. BURNS, 

\ J. T. NOBLE, 

Committee. 

Programme 

1:00 P.M. 

Devotional Exercises. 

Address of Welcome, . . . W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn. 

Response, . . Rev. Francis M. Hall, Conneautville, Penn 

History of the Church, Rev. G. W. F. Birch, D.D., New York. 

191 



Appendix 

The Pew of the Church, . . Rev. J. M. Mealy, D.D., New 

Wilmington, Penn. 
Reminiscences of Pastors and Presbytery: 

Rev. W. H. Lester, D.D., West Alexander, Penn. 

Rev. Wm. Speer, D.D., Washington, Penn. 

Rev. Henry Woods, D.D., Washington, Penn. 

Rev. D. A. Cunningham, Wheeling, W. Va. 

Rev. J. I. Brownson, D.D., Washington, Penn. 

7:30 P.M. 

Opening Exercises. 
The Church and College, . . . Rev. J. D. Moffat, D.D., 

Washington, Penn. 
The Boy at Church, . . Rev. A. A. Mealy, Bridgeville, Penn. 
The Social Church, . . Rev. E. O. Sawhill, Allegheny, Penn. 

Voluntary Remarks. 
Programme interspersed by special music, including " Songs 

by Ye Olde Folks." 

Aledo, Mercer County, III. 
September 17, 1895 

Messrs. W. A. Irwin and Martin Finley. 

Dear Sirs: — I received your letters in due time, 
stating your arrangement to hold and celebrate the 
seventy-fifth anniversary of the Claysville Presbyterian 
Church on the 20th of this month, and that you have 
so kindly invited my presence with you, to participate 
in the solemn services of the day in giving thanks to 
Almighty God for His fostering care over His church 
of Claysville. 

I am sorry that circumstances will not permit me 
to be present in person; therefore I send you this letter 
regarding the earlier history of the church, so far as 
my knowledge goes. 

The Claysville Church was organized in the fall of 
192 



Appendix 

1820 by Rev. Thos. Hoge. I commenced going 
regularly to the Claysville Church in 1828, when they 
were occupying the old church building. 

In the summer of 1830 there were communion 
services; the church not being large enough to hold 
the people, arrangements were made to hold the meet- 
ing in a grove near by. A tent was erected. Rev. Hoge 
preached the sermon from the words: " Prepare to 
meet thy God, oh Israel." 

These words seemed to stir the hearts of the people, 
showing that God was in the midst with convincing 
and converting power. 

One young man was so deeply affected that he burst 
into tears and went into the grove to be alone for 
meditation. There were fifteen received into the church 
on profession of faith, and eight received by letter. 
It was a solemn scene when those fifteen came for- 
ward and were received into full membership in the 
church; it was also a glad scene to the parents and the 
church. 

The Church Record is full until Rev. Wm. Wright 
became stated supply from 1841 to '42. During this 
time, at one of our meetings shortly before Mr. Wright 
left, the Church Records were presented to be looked 
over. He was looking them over and remarked, " If 
this book goes to Presbytery in this shape it will not 
come back." Then some one of the session asked for 
what reason. His answer was, " It is so informal." 
One of the session said, " Mr. Wright, you take it and 
fix it in shape to go before Presbytery." That was the 
last we saw of the book until after he left. I found the 
book in his room with a part of the records cut out 

193 



Appendix 

and destroyed. I went to Presbytery with the book 
in a worse shape than when Mr. Wright got it. When 
I explained matters, there was severe criticism against 
him. 

If you look at the old book you will see how much 
of the record is missing. 

In 1856 we had another manifestation of the Spirit's 
power. About twenty were received on profession, and 
others by letter. This was under the pastorate of Rev. 
McCarrell, the winter before we left Claysville. I am 
so glad God has still remembered His church in Clays- 
ville. As I look back over the past and remember the 
names of those who were ruling elders in the church 
with me, and who were ruling elders when I was re- 
ceived into the church — Jos. Donahey, Sr., Archibald 
Brownlee, Thos. Stewart, Wm. McLain, Geo. Mc- 
Conahey, Hugh Craig, Nicholas Bearly, John Hoon — 
who have all passed away with the exception, perhaps, 
of one or two, it makes a deep impression on my mind 
when I remember the happy days which we spent to- 
gether in the church. 

I hope that the blessings of God may continue to 
follow the labors of the present and coming session 
and pastors, and that the Church of Claysville may be 
a bright and shining light that others may see their 
good works and glorify our Father which is in 
Heaven. 

And with these greetings to the brethren and Church 
of Claysville, I will close. Please remember me in 
your meeting. 

I remain your brother in Christ, 

Robert Woods. 
194 



Appendix 

To the Christian brethren and sisters of the Pres- 
byterian Church of Claysville. 

September, 1895. 

When I first read in the county paper a notice that 
you were to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary of 
the dear old church, my earnest desire was to be with 
you — to mingle once again in this world with dear 
brethren and sisters in the Lord — to sit once more 
within the old sacred walls where, for a goodly number 
of years, it was my blessed privilege to sit under the 
ministry of that faithful and devoted man of God, Dr. 
McCarrell. This desire to be with you, under the cir- 
cumstances, seems to be denied me, and I send these 
lines to tell you that my love for and interest in the 
old church's welfare and prosperity remain with me 
and have never forsook me during these many years. 
Since I felt constrained, as I trust from duty and con- 
viction, to sever my connection with the dear old 
church and connect myself with another, how could it 
be otherwise, that I should not cherish such feelings 
towards a place connected from earliest childhood 
with the holiest and most sacred associations — a place 
where, if ever I experienced that greatest of all changes, 
that change wherein only a man begins truly to live, 
the change from death unto life called the " new 
birth," it was there — a place where for many years I 
enjoyed uninterruptedly the means of grace in which 
my soul was often filled with " joy unspeakable and 
full of glory " and " a peace that passeth all under- 
standing," where I seemed to " sit in heavenly places in 
Christ Jesus" ? How could I but cherish toward such 
a place the warmest feelings of interest, how could my 

195 



Appendix 

prayer be other than " Peace be within thy walls and 
prosperity within thy palaces " ? " If I forget thee, O 
Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning." 

My connection with the church commenced in the 
early years of Dr. McCarrell's ministry. My whole 
soul was absorbed in religious things. They filled my 
waking hours, and often in the night, when sleepless, 
I wanted to read on no other subject. How I longed 
for the Sabbath when I could give myself wholly 
to these things, and how precious to me were the 
communion seasons observed regularly every three 
months ! How eagerly I looked forward to them — a ser- 
vice Friday and Saturday, two on Sunday, and a con- 
cluding one on Monday! They were verily feast times 
to my soul. How I longed to hear those venerated 
men that assisted the pastor on those occasions, such as 
Dr. Stockton, Dr. Eagleson, Dr. McKennan, Dr. Mc- 
Cluskey, Dr. Brownson, Dr. Lester, the two Herveys, 
and the two Griers, and others I need not name! 
How they thrilled and profited my soul by their able 
expositions of Bible truth, and what an unction 
seemed to attend their words so that the old truths 
seemed fresh and new! What sweet and heavenly and 
soul-satisfying seasons they were to me, and how often 
on Monday have I went away sad and burdened at 
heart that so long a time would elapse before I could 
enjoy another! I have reason to bless God that my 
Christian life began under such a devoted and conse- 
crated man as Dr. McCarrell. Few men were so wholly 
given to the work, or could say more truly with Paul, 
" This one thing I do." What a high ideal of what 
the Christian life should be he ever held before his peo- 

196 



Appendix 

pie, and how tenderly and solemnly and with many tears 
did he warn and entreat the sinner to turn and live! 
What a work he accomplished for Claysville and vicin- 
ity, eternity alone can reveal, and how long its influence 
will last in this world, who can tell? But I will weary 
you. I will close with one of the weighty inferences 
of St. Paul. He had been speaking of the Resurrec- 
tion, of the glorious reunion of all the saints in their 
heavenly home, of their final victory over sin, death, 
and hell. He says, " But thanks be to God who giveth 
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. There- 
fore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, 
always abounding in the work of the Lord, for as much 
as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 

Joseph F. Craig, 

Reserve, Kan. 

Shippensburg, Penn., August 27, 1895. 
Mr. W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn. 

My dear Friend Will: — Your letter inviting me to 
attend the seventy-fifth anniversary of the old church 
at Claysville on the 20th of next month, came while I 
was away from home on my vacation. I came home 
only a few days ago, and I now hasten to reply. It 
would give me the greatest pleasure, on many ac- 
counts, to be present at this anniversary, for I love the 
old church, and anything I could do for its true pros- 
perity I would do most cheerfully. It was in this 
church that my sainted father spent the most of the 
years of his life and almost all of his ministerial life, 
and it was for this church that he toiled and prayed and 
sacrificed; and it was here that the Lord gave him such 

197 



Appendix 

signal success, and he now wears in heaven, as I be- 
lieve, the many seals of his faithful ministry. The very 
fact that so many of the sons of this church have gone 
into the ministry is the mark of a success which any 
preacher of the Gospel might well covet. It was in 
this dear old church that I spent the days of my child- 
hood and youth, and there, as I trust, I gave myself 
to the Lord and to the ministry of the Word. It was 
in this church that many of my beloved kindred lived 
and labored, and it was from this church that they 
went to " join the general assembly and church of the 
first-born in heaven " ; and here, also, were and are 
many of my best earthly friends. For these and many 
other reasons I shall never cease to love the old church 
and to pray for her true prosperity. Yet, notwith- 
standing all of this, I feel that it would not be best for 
me to go there at the present time. Quite a number 
of my relatives have but recently gone out of the 
church; quite a number are still in it, and I fear that 
my coming to this anniversary at this time would not 
be altogether comfortable for me. Taking everything 
into consideration, I feel that it would be better for me 
just now to stay away. I have taken no part whatever 
in the controversies which have rent the old church; 
I want to take no part now. That there have been 
sad faults and mistakes on both sides, every one must 
admit. My prayer to God is that all of these breaches 
may be healed; that the past may be forgotten; that all 
may forgive, as they hope to be forgiven; and that by a 
mighty outpouring of the Holy Spirit on those who 
have gone out as well as on those still in the old church, 
those who have gone out may come back to the 

198 



Appendix 

church of their fathers, and all being " bound together 
in the bonds of Christ's love," the church may have a 
more glorious future than it has ever had in the past! 

For this consummation I will ever pray; and if there 
is anything that I can do to bring it about I will do it 
most cheerfully. I want it to be distinctly understood 
that that old church is my church, and for it I will ever 
stand. I regret exceedingly that I cannot see my way 
clear to attend the proposed celebration. You can 
easily see the position in which I am placed. I thank 
you for the invitation, and I trust you may have a 
profitable and pleasant time. I will be glad to have 
a full report of the proceedings. If there is anything 
which I can do, let me know. With kindest regards 
to you and all inquiring friends, 

I am, yours most sincerely, 

W. A. McCarrell. 

Keokuk, Iowa, Septeviber 16, 1895. 
W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn. 

Dear Sir: — Your letter and invitation, inviting me 
to the diamond anniversary of the Presbyterian Church 
of Claysville, Penn., received, and I am sorry to write 
you that my business engagements are such that I 
cannot accept the invitation and be present on that 
interesting occasion. Nothing would give me greater 
pleasure than to go back among my old friends and the 
associates of my childhood days and participate in the 
celebration of the three-quarter century anniversary 
of the existence of the old church where I received my 
religious education. There are so many hallowed 
memories around the old church where I spent my 

199 



Appendix 

early life that it would be certainly a very great privi- 
lege to be present with those who will be assembled 
there, and listen to the reminiscences of its life and 
history, and if I could possibly spare the time I would 
consider it a high privilege and honor to be permitted 
to have a voice in the proceedings. I know you will 
all enjoy the occasion, and I can assure you that my 
best wishes will be with you upon that day. 

May the Divine Master who has followed that 
church through all these years and given it so great 
success, and from whose bosom have gone out so many 
candidates for the Gospel ministry, cause it to be as 
highly blessed in the future as it has been in the past. 
I am, very truly yours, 

John E. Craig. 

3447 Prairie Ave., Chicago, Sept. 15, 1895. 
W. A. Irwin, T. B. Craig, Sr., and others of the Com- 
mittee, Claysville, Penn. 

Gentlemen: — Your kind invitation to be present on 
the 20th inst. on the occasion of the seventy-fifth anni- 
versary of the Presbyterian Church of Claysville, Penn., 
is just received. I thank you. The time is so short 
I will not be able to arrange my business so as to 
attend. This I very much regret. 

To me there is no spot on earth about which so 
many pleasant, sacred memories cluster as about the 
dear old Church at Claysville. There, under the tutor- 
ship of the sainted McCarrell, who was to me both 
teacher and friend, I was rooted and grounded in the 
wholesome doctrines of the church, through its 



Appendix 

Shorter Catechism and Bible teachings. Through 
these teachings came habits of logical thought which 
have ever had an influence upon my life-work. 

I would love again to meet the dear friends of my 
youth and mingle my tears with theirs to the mem- 
ory of the sainted McCarrell and others of the dear 
ones who have joined him. 

Trusting the occasion may be one of the greatest 
enjoyment to you all, I am, 

Yours truly, 

John M. Hoon. 



Aledo, III., September 16, 1895. 
T. B. Craig, Claysville, Penn. 

Dear Sir and Brother: — Your kind invitation to the 
Diamond Anniversary of the old home church to 
hand. What a stream of loving memories it brings to 
us! A glance at the programme shows so many names 
of old day and Sabbath-school associates. We are 
sorry to have to send our regrets instead of being pres- 
ent in person, but will be there in thought and spirit 
on that day. Our Presbyterian Church here has quite 
a number who claim the old Brick Church as their 
parent church. Robt. Woods (whose failing strength 
only keeps him from being with you), Wm. Woods, 
John G. and Nannie McGuffin, A. W. Henderson and 
wife, Mrs. Anna Hammond (ne'e Henderson), and J. 
F. Henderson, are those we can call to memory at 
this time. That the day may be a glorious and long- 
to-be-remembered one in social and spiritual blessing, 
and that you may all be spared for many years of 
14 201 



Appendix 

useful work in the Master's vineyard, is the wish of 
your friends. 

A. W. Henderson. 

J. F. Henderson. 

Concordia, Kansas, September 16, 1895. 
T. B. Craig, Sr., Claysville, Penn. 

My dear Friend: — Your letter of invitation to be 
present or write a letter for the seventy-fifth anniver- 
sary of the Claysville Presbyterian Church is at hand. 
It is not possible for me to be present, and the time 
is too brief to write more than to tell you how I would 
like to be there. I often think of my old church; two 
names always rise before me in this connection: Rev. 
Alexander McCarrell and A. K. Craig. It would 
hardly seem like home to me without them. While 
the church has had many godly men, the impressions 
of my youth, or childhood rather, that the above two 
men were " the church," cling to me. Now, the prin- 
cipal statement I want to make in this letter is the 
hope that all the addresses, speeches, letters, etc., will 
be published in book form. I think you could sell 
enough to cover expenses. I will promise to take one. 
To me the next best thing to being piesent will be 
to read all about it; the book would prove valuable to 
future generations. If you have not made arrange- 
ments along this line I trust you will consider it. 
Trusting that the blessing of our Heavenly Father may 
be on the church in the future as in the past, 
I am, yours truly, 

William F. Sawiiill. 
202 



Appendix 

Waynesboro, Penn., August 27, 1895. 

Mr. W. A. Irwin. 

Dear Friend: — Your favor of August 13th, informing 
me of the proposed celebration of the " seventy-fifth " 
or " Diamond Anniversary " of the Claysville Presby- 
terian Church, on September 20th next, was duly 
received. 

I thank you for your cordial invitation to be present 
and take part in the exercises of that occasion. It 
would afford me great pleasure to be with you at that 
time. The old church is very dear to me, both because 
it was the church of my youth and especially because 
of father's long connection with it as pastor. I find, 
however, that it will not be convenient for me to at- 
tend the anniversary exercises. I regret very much 
that I cannot be present to join with you all in calling 
to mind the work and the men of the past. I will be 
with you in spirit, if not in person. 

I sincerely hope that you may have a most pleasant 
and profitable anniversary. And I earnestly pray that 
the present members of the old church may be blessed 
with an abundant outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon 
them, and that in the spirit of " the fathers " they may 
enter with new zeal upon the Lord's work during the 
closing quarter of the century. May the last twenty- 
five years of the hundred years of the church's history 
be the best! 

Thanking you again for the invitation, and wishing 
you all abundant success, and with kindest regards 
for you personally, I am, 

Yours sincerely, 

Tiios. C. McCarrell. 

203 



Appendix 



Obituary 

Died November 29th, Thaddeus Clark Noble, of 
Claysville, Perm., in the sixty-fourth year of his age. 

A good man has gone to his reward. A life has 
passed away that leaves behind it an influence for good. 
The light in a happy home has been quenched in the 
darkness of death, and yet the sad hearts that are left 
are not without consolation. A long life of constant 
service in the cause of Christ, an untiring zeal and un- 
wavering testimony for Jesus, give absolute assurance 
that he who has gone has entered into the rest pre- 
pared for the people of God. 

T. C. Noble was born December 29, 1818,. in Amwell 
Township, but most of his life was spent in the town 
of Claysville. His life was a busy and industrious one. 
Constantly and actively engaged in extensive business, 
he was a public benefit to the community in which he 
lived. He was strictly honorable and upright in his 
dealings, and his character for honesty was without 
reproach. He was a public man. He promoted by 
his influence and means every useful enterprise. He 
was a patron of education and one of the earliest advo- 
cates of temperance. He was kind to the poor and he 
never turned a deaf ear to the cry of the needy. A 
kind and devoted husband and one of the best of 
fathers, he was especially happy in the relations of 
home. As a citizen he conscientiously discharged his 
duty to the State by an active and intelligent participa- 
tion in public affairs. As a member of the community 

204 



Appendix 

he constantly promoted peace and, although engaged 
in extensive business, never was a party to a lawsuit. 
But, above all, as the crowning virtue of his life, he 
was a humble, devoted, and faithful Christian. His 
voice and influence in the church were always for peace 
and harmony. He was a liberal giver to all the be- 
nevolent enterprises of the church. His place in the 
church on the Sabbath was seldom ever vacant, and 
his voice was ever heard in the social prayer-meeting. 
He was an active member of the Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association until declining health forbade the 
work in which his heart was engaged. He loved chil- 
dren, and it was his special delight to do them good. 
For many years he had been the faithful and efficient 
superintendent of the Claysville Presbyterian Sabbath- 
school. His punctuality was remarkable. In all 
these many years the writer only remembers two Sab- 
baths which he missed being in his place until illness 
kept him away, and even then his heart was in the 
school. The Sabbath before he died he told his wife 
he thought he could go. We will ever remember his 
untiring and unwearied efforts to impress Scripture 
texts on the minds of the children. No doubt the seed 
thus sown and consecrated by prayer will bring forth 
a rich and abundant harvest. His record is on high, 
and his reward is sure. His home is with the blood- 
washed throng in the city which has no need of the 
light of the sun, for the Lamb is the light thereof. 
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from hence- 
forth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from 
their labors; and their works do follow them. 

Alexander K. Craig. 
205 



Appendix 

The following item is furnished by one of the 
leading physicians of Pittsburgh : 

" I desire to personally acknowledge and express 
my thanks to Mr. J. T. Noble for the interest that he 
has taken in not only the historical exercises of this 
church, but particularly the memorial exercises. He 
was the first to visit Mrs. Patterson, of Philadelphia, 
and engage her interest in these exercises, as well 
as to renew her interest in this church and its future 
welfare. It was especially fitting for him to do so, 
as this church had its origin through the influence 
of the Rev. Thomas Hoge and his grandfather 
Truesdell." 



206 



H 70 89«f 



<> ♦; 






<> •; 



•*' 




^0* 










V ..J 






4? «* 






^ C 













#* % 












^ 



*K •. 










.,*• $* 



5>^r 














V„« 6< 



* 4< 

Deacidilied using the Bookkeeper proi 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 

JUN 199* 

IQKKEEPE 



^c^ 







w ** 



Vtflfr*?- ° .4 



/• % 
























^ ^ - 



i. 







i** o<»! 



* • • o 



<^ 



**s* 



**° 









.A~ . t • 











<+ •♦TV-' .6* 

» ° " • # ^>a (V - • w 

40* 













*,. *••»• A \ 










•^ 



'bV 







